


Fairytales and Lullabies

by DoodlebugQT



Category: Walking Dead (TV) Walking Dead (comics)
Genre: Angst, Easter Eggs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Judith is sassy, Judith sasses Negan, Mostly the Walking Dead though, Other, Pagan beliefs, Penny Dreadful - Freeform, Rick is overprotective, Strong Female Characters, Strong Language, Survival Skills, The Cure, Witches, Zombie Apocalypse, american horror story - Freeform, depends on how the story progresses, emotional manipulation in further chapters, mentions of other fandoms, negan is an asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-11-01 11:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 100,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10920594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoodlebugQT/pseuds/DoodlebugQT
Summary: He tilted his head as he looked me up and down in consideration. “So what might a little girl like you be doing out here at night, alone, with no one around?” He grinned that shark-like smile, showing off his perfect set of white teeth. “Does your father know you’re out here all by yourself?”“Why? Are you going to run off and rat on me to him?” I challenged, defensive and angrily calling the bluff.His bark of laughter split all other sound in the clearing.“No. I’m not one to report someone to the authorities over something so menial as that. I’m just a little concerned, is all. Little girl out here alone,” the light glinted on the metal of the barbed wire on his bat as he eyed me, “never know what you might find, who you might meet out here.”





	1. The First Years

**Authors Notes:  
** This story occurs about a few years after the outbreak began. The group has been at Alexandria for about six years. Judith is a little kid by the time Negan comes into the picture. Just to clarify I prefer the comic Negan more than the show version. I will use various elements from both medias. Alexandria's borders are depicted as much larger with a wider community than in the show version as is Hilltop, it seems. Although I did keep the forest around the town. I'll try not to switch between the two of them too much, but I can't make any promises.

I'll also be mentioning a bit from other fandoms like Penny Dreadful, American Horror Story, Grey's anatomy, and several others. The majority of it will take place in the Walking Dead verse though.

Just to be clear, I don't own the Walking Dead or any of the other fandoms.

* * *

** Fairytales and Lullabies **

** Chapter 1  **   
** the First Years **

_Sometimes being a child isn’t easy, and it sure as hell isn’t a piece of cake when you grow up in a world full of zombies. As Negan’s army terrorizes their group, Judith feels pressure to protect everyone and take care of her family the best way she knows how; foraging, hunting and eluding the walking dead. But in time, Judith realizes there are things that only she can do, things that make her special in the entire world, and it’ll either help her people more than ever or catch the interest some very bad armies._

* * *

**The Prison Rose**  
When I was three someone told me that I was never born. My mother died on a rose plant inside a prison and my brother picked me from the buds and gave me to my father. That night I bloomed out of the flower. It was only until later that I realized that wasn’t really true.

There _was_ a prison, but no rose plant, and my mother did die but it hadn’t been the sort of beautiful death I sometime imagined, in the least. There was terror and agony and my brother _had_ really been there, but I came just as the rest of our species had come before, and a moment after that my mother left.

I was strange growing up. I could see things other people couldn’t. I had a lot of friends and family. People came and left all the time, but one way or another they always came back to me. Once they left to other people, they were gone for good, but not for me. I saw them as often as they showed themselves to me. They were part of me, and they’d always stay part of me.

* * *

 **A Fascination for Witches**  
Once I started reading I grew a deep interest to books. Specifically fiction. Even more specifically fantasy. The first fantasy I ever read was a little picture book about a witch with a delivery service. It was traditionally a film from Japan but the creators had altered it into a translated illustrated story book, one of which I devoured every night over and over again as my bedtime story.

From that moment on I was fascinated with witches.

How did she keep her broom in the air? I had experimented with our own and I can say with certainty it sure didn’t fly. Not only that it wasn’t at all that comfortable to sit on.

I had so many questions, but the book didn’t provide me with many answers.

It wasn’t until my brother introduced me to another book that cleared some things up for me.

Harry Potter was a world I frequently visited, especially when I wanted to escape my own. At times though, it was hard to understand. I lived in neither the muggle world nor the wizarding world and as such it was curious and confusing when they regarded things like boarding school and trains and currency.

There were none of these in my world; no businesses or stores or public transportation—there wasn’t even money, only a flimsy barter system. My world was a bubble around our town. Sometimes people went out and came back, but it was too dangerous for someone like me. Children were not allowed out beyond the boundaries of the iron walls. Always kept safe, always kept hidden, those were the rules for us. As one of youngest members of our town, if I did go out, it was with a capable adult skilled in fighting and escape. No exceptions. I can count the number of times that that had happened on one hand.

Sometimes when people went out, they didn’t come back. Other times they came back, but they were changed. They were different. They laughed less. They talked less. They cried more. They hurt more.

That was my life. That was my world.

The only connection I had was what people brought back. Once my brother had returned with an entire box of books. As I rooted through them I came upon an encyclopedia of five thousand actual spells. My excitement soared at the idea of them and I asked if it was okay to keep it.

Carl had no use for it and no one else seemed all that interested in that sort of thing so I became its proud new owner.

I remember reading it with gusto but was surprised to learn the spells weren’t exactly like Harry Potter’s brand of magic. Even so, magic was magic and I could already sort of understand that there were different kinds. Maybe this was just a special brand for muggles to learn.

I began practicing some of the little rituals and recipes; the ones that mostly brought good luck and sweet dreams. In my opinion, those seemed to be greatly needed for our little town. No one discouraged me. I think they wanted to give me something to believe and hope for, and if it made me happy there were no objections.

So I continued the practice, learning them like the little prayers and blessings from Father Gabriel’s sermons. He was the only one who really disapproved of the magic, saying it was against god’s law to follow witchcraft and such pagan beliefs.

“She’s not hurting anyone with it.” My dad announced to Gabriel. He rarely spoke his own opinion about my interests with these things, but when someone spoke their disapproval of something that seemed so harmless is when he stepped in. “There are worse things she could find as a hobby and she’ll probably grow out of it someday. But for the moment it makes her feel better about things, so I’m not going to judge or interfere with it, and neither will you or anyone else.”

It was the last anyone said anything about it so I continued the practice and did not grow out of it.

* * *

 **Identity**  
“Maggie, do you know how to cut hair?” I asked the woman one day a few weeks after I turned six.

“Well enough. I used to cut my sister’s hair.” She announced with a somewhat sad smile.

“Will you cut mine?”

“You want to cut your hair? But it’s so pretty when it’s long like this.”

“I know but Carl found me a really good manga and I’ve decided I want to have hair like the girl right here.” I held up a book to her with a picture of a little girl with short blond hair and a side ponytail. “Do you think you could do something like this?”

“Hmm… looks easy enough. Yeah I think so. I’ll go get the scissors.”

I went to wet my hair while Maggie gathered all the things. She was waiting for me when I met her in the kitchen and was instantly ready to wrap me up in the towel provided. She snipped the scissors and the hair fell away. “It’ll be different to see you with short hair.” She announced filling the silence with chitchat rather than mere occasional snips. “You look so much like your mom with long hair.”

“I know.” I said somberly. “That’s why it needs to be cut. Every time Dad and Carl look at me, they’re sad.”

My words threw her off and she paused probably thinking of her own memories of my mother. “So why do you want your hair to look like a comic book character?”

“Not a comic book; a _manga_ ,” I corrected. Only six and I was already annoyed by the ignorance when people didn’t see the difference. “And her name is Hibiki.”

“Alright, my bad. Why do you want to look like Hibiki?”

“Her hair is cute, and she can do magic and I like the kind of person she is. And it seemed like an easy enough hair style to copy.”

“Good enough answers. What’s the comic—I’m sorry, _manga_ about?”

“Well Hibiki lives with a magician as his assistant, and he’s teaching her how to use magic, but she’s not very good at it. She messes up and she loses her nerve. Her master does in magic circles. It’s where he draws a special circle on the ground and it has some kind of magic charge. But in that world magic always comes at a price. Sometimes it takes people’s memories, sometimes it takes their youth, sometimes it even takes a bit of their life away.”

“That sounds awful.”

“Sometimes it is. But Hibiki tries to make a magic that doesn’t need a price like that. I’m not sure if she manages it though, because I’ve only got two of the books and she didn’t get that far I guess.”

“That’s too bad.” She finished with the last snip and began drying it with the hair dryer.

“Yeah it is but I can always imagine what happened. That’s not so bad.”

“I suppose, though it would have been nice to know for sure how she did it.”

“Yeah, but sometimes that’s just how things are.”

She was quiet as she put the side ponytail in my hair, taking the extra effort to floof it a bit. Once done she angled a hand mirror around to let me view her work.

“So… what do you think?”

“It’s great!” I announced happily, touching the lochs experimentally. I didn’t quite look like the girl on the cover but there was nothing I could do to change my face. Thankfully the new hairdo improved the resemblance and that satisfied me.

* * *

 **Rejected**  
It was hot. I was finished with my chores and eager to spend this time reading up with one of the new books my brother had found for me. Normally I chose to read on the porch but today I was eager for a change of scenery. Absently I looked out over the line between the surrounding wall and the trees. A steady wind blew up bringing with it a tune that sang to me. I was never allowed outside the fence but I could hear it calling even so, like a whispering friend.

I tried to stamp down on the desire to sneak out, despite common sense. Instead I looked towards the main gate and spotted Natasha pacing in her lookout perch. A stab of longing pierced me and I ran up to the perch hopefully.

“Natasha? Can I read up there with you?”

She glanced down, uneasily. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“I promise not to jump and I won’t be loud.” I held the book to my chest. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

She paused. There hadn’t been an accident in months and bad things rarely happened on the lookout. “…Alright. Come up, but don’t make a ruckus and don’t distract me.”

“Alright.” I shambled up and made myself comfortable on the side, swinging my legs back and forth between the gap as I looked out over the trees. It was such a pretty spot.

“What’s your book?”

“Island of the Blue Dolphins.”

“What’s it about?”

“A girl who’s stranded all alone on the island of her ancestors after all her people leave.”

“I think I must have read that when I was younger. I sort of remember a book like that growing up.”

“It’s good. I like it.”

I swung my legs back and forth as I read, but then the activity of several gathered walkers below engrossed my attention. I watched them for a moment, curious how they seemed to reach more for Natasha than me even though my legs kicked back and forth, which naturally should have attracted them more.

“Why do they like you and not me?” I asked the woman.

She looked at me. “What do you mean?”

“Sit down.” I instructed. “The way I am, only over there.”

“You know I can’t move from my post. I need to be on the ready.”

“Well then wave down at them.” She didn’t want to. “Come on. They’re all the way down there and they can’t hurt us.”

She hesitated but eventually stepped towards the edge and whistled down at the six surrounding walkers. They all looked up at her, coming towards the edge and stretching towards her in hunger, attracted by her sound and movement. I continued to swing my legs over the edge, but none of them so much as looked towards me.

“I’ll be damned.” Natasha said in awe. “How are you doing that? Do you have something on you?”

“I don’t think so.”

She looked uneasily down at the herd. “Why don’t you go back down and read somewhere else.”

“Awe, do I have to?”

“Yes. Go find your brother and see if he needs any help with his chores.”

“Okay.” I climbed down from the lookout and went back to my house, putting the odd exchange out of my mind as I skipped off.

* * *

 **Wolf Attack**  
I remember the smoke and the screams. I remember the wild men and women as they broke through the fence and rampaged through the streets of our town. I remember my brother coming into my room and telling me to stay inside and away from the windows. I remember him cocking the gun and pointing it at the door of my room, prepared and ready to use it on anyone we didn’t recognize.

We stayed like that for hours, listening to the screams outside and smelling the smoke as our fields and supplies burned. Finally a knock came from the door and our father was outside telling us it was alright to come out again.

When we stepped out the door of our house we surveyed the land and saw tall buildings as mere rubble. Our fields were only ashes now and our food was greatly depleted. Aside from that there were bodies piled high and everyone walked as if in a daze, staring at the work we put our hearts into reduced now to nothing in a matter of moments.

It was terrifying for anyone who could understand it. Winter was on us and we had nearly no supplies to face it with. There was nothing.

* * *

 **Negotiations with Hilltop**  
People whispered here and there about a newcomer in town. Dad and Daryl had met him on a supply run and there was talk about opening trade with another town.

“We’ll have some good food in a few days.” He told me, patting my head as he loaded into the RV with my brother and several of our best fighters. “I’ll be back soon and we’ll have dinner again, alright honey?”

I nodded. These days my tummy was always aching for food, but I knew better than to complain. _Everyone_ was really hungry. I had to keep that in mind.

But just as he promised, he was back the very next day with fresh food and I grinned large and bright as I hugged a whole ear of corn to me in excitement.

I couldn’t wait to have a real dinner and that night I was full for the first time in weeks.

* * *

 **The Outpost Attack**  
A few days after Dad had traded with the group known as Hilltop he and our best fighters went out once again to fulfill the services they promised in exchange for the food we’d been given.

But when he came back there were ghosts on everyone’s faces. I saw men and women I didn’t know lined up behind them all and an overwhelming shadow of fear dropped over me as I studied these strangers. Then the wind blew through them and carried them away to whatever final destination was waiting for them.

I knew without asking that those spirits were dead because of my family, but I never asked them why.

* * *

 **The Ambush**  
Maggie was in pain. That was the only thing I really understood about what was happening to her. She was in pain and agony. Something to do with the baby, is what I could gather. Something was horribly wrong with her baby. I was scared and didn’t know what to do as she cried for me to run and get help. Sprinting from the house I found my dad and told him, with tears in my eyes about what had happened.

He and a few of the others looked her over, but none of them were doctors. The only place we knew that could help her was miles away. Dad told me not to worry though as he and Carl loaded up with the young woman into the RV and set out for the other town.

I put it out of my mind for the rest of the day, convinced that they were all sure to come back good as new.

But that same night after my father left to take Maggie to the doctor in Hilltop, accompanied by our strongest fighters, I woke up feeling there was something deeply wrong.

I remember it so clearly.

I got up and walked downstairs, not sure what was calling me. When I opened the front door the sight of Glenn’s back sitting on our porch was what greeted me. Right then I understood what had happened.

Silently I went and took a seat beside him.

We said no words but I knew he was no longer alive. He looked like how Hershel and Beth looked. He looked like how my mother looked.

He looked better than this world had left him in. The laughter was back in his eyes. The jokes he had carried long before I knew him were back. This was the real Glenn; the one that still had his parents, that hotwired a flashy red car, the one that delivered pizzas and joked with the customers to be rewarded with a large tip for the service. But it was also the one that fought to protect Maggie, wrestled away from a hundred walkers with nothing but guard armor out of an overrun prison, went back to save one who had stood with the invading force, and fought and sacrificed and bled and cried countless times for his family—for us.

He was all of them, and none of them. The heartache wasn’t there, neither was the pain, the fear, or the sorrow.

He finally looked over at me and smiled. Then he turned and my gaze followed his. Across the street from our house was Abraham.

He wore a sharp navy blue military suit and he wasn’t alone. Beside him stood a woman I’d seen before and two children; Ellen, AJ, and Becca. I had talked with them once before.

Abraham’s chest puffed out in pride as the woman took his hand and the children took each of theirs. No one said a word as they turned and walked down the street, a smile gracing all their faces.

They walked away and didn’t come back. Abraham had moved on. I wouldn’t see him again in this life, but it didn’t sadden me. He was happy.

But Glenn didn’t leave. We sat together all night, watching the sky and counting the shooting stars that shot by. The next morning Gabriel found me curled on the porch. Glenn was gone this time and a horn was blaring in the distance outside the walls.

* * *

 **Broken**  
When my father came back that day, I did not recognize him. His face was not harmed and his body was intact, in a sense, but his spirit was greatly broken. His life-force had been drained and what laughter had remained in his eyes before he had left, was all gone.

They were _all_ greatly changed. No one laughed. No one smiled. My brother himself walked as if lost.

And there were fewer of them than there had been.

Abraham and Glenn I knew were both passed, but additionally my uncle Daryl himself was now missing from the group.

My fears for him were more than the fears for the ones dead and I clearly remember running to my room to cast a spell of protection for him.

The next few days were strange. Everyone was scrambling to gather supplies but nobody would tell me why. In that time I was instructed to stay out of the way. No one wanted to play with me or read. There was a heavy burden on my father’s shoulders quite suddenly, one that made him jump and panic at the slightest noise. I could not bring myself to ask what it was, even to the others, so I occupied my time in searching for Glenn.

Normally the spirits were fickle and came and went at their own discretion, but Glenn… there was something wrong with him. He was… _injured_ wasn’t the right word. I don’t know. I didn’t understand. So I consulted Hershel.

“Glenn’s spirit is being haunted.” He told me.

“Like a ghost?”

“In a way.”

“But _he’s_ a ghost. How can a ghost haunt another ghost?”

“It isn’t something dead.” He said. “It’s his murderer.”

“A walker?” It was the only thing I could think of that would want to harm him. There were already so many people who had been killed by them so it would make sense.

“No. Something worse.” The old man explained looking out at some distant point through the window. “He can’t move passed it. He’s afraid. I’ve tried talking to him but there’s something coming that terrifies him more than anything else.”

“Can I help him?”

He looked at me and for the first time I remember trouble in his eyes. “I don’t know.”

* * *

 **A Warning**  
“Michonne, why is everyone scared?”

The behavior of the town lately had set me on edge and my dad wasn’t talking or looking at me much for some reason. Not even my brother wanted to talk. So I consulted Michonne about my concerns, confident that she would give me a straight answer.

Solemnly she knelt to the ground and looked me in the eye, staring at me with urgency as she held my shoulders firmly.

“Judith, some very bad people are coming here.” She said simply. “All you need to know about them is that they are bad men and they will hurt anyone to get whatever they want, including you.”

“Did they hurt, dad?”

“Yes.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“Yes.”

I looked away. “Will Glenn and Abraham’s murderer be there?”

She looked painfully sad and could only nod.

“Your father wants you to stay hidden when they get here. You can’t come out until they’re gone.”

“Why not? I’m not scared of them.” I announced boldly.

“These are men you _need_ to be scared of, Judith.” Michonne urged.

“Are you scared?”

She didn’t answer, but her silence spoke volumes, setting me immediately on edge. If these people were enough to make this strong, powerful woman afraid, then they really were bad people. They were bad people and they were coming to hurt my family. They were coming to hurt my father—again! They were the reason he was broken and terrified! They were the reason Glenn’s spirit couldn’t be at peace!

And they were coming here!

I couldn’t let them do the same to the rest of the people here! I couldn’t! I needed a plan. I needed a spell to keep everyone safe.

A powerful spell!


	2. To Cast a Sheild

** Chapter 2  
To Cast a Shield **

Under the light of the waning moon I slipped outside and did something stupidly dangerous.

I had caught my brother using the blind spots of the wall to climb over and escape into the forest with Enid sometimes. I wasn’t sure where they went and it wasn’t all that important. I just needed to borrow his route for this one time.

It was hard.

The iron walls were tall and I couldn’t see the grip hooks on the bars very well. Plus I was a lot shorter than my teenage brother and the holds were further apart… and I was carrying a bag. I skinned most of my hand climbing over and cut up my legs trying to shimmy down. I was clumsy in jumping to the ground and twisted my ankle, not severely but enough to make walking uncomfortable.

I wanted to cry at the sight of the blood on my hands, but I held those tears back. Dad and Carl both suffered far worse injuries than these little scratches. I aspired to be like them when dealing with pain, and if they didn’t cry from those wounds I wouldn’t cry from these, because I _needed_ to make this trip.

Praying hadn’t helped much before, but maybe spells would work where those all hadn’t.

Working under dark, for those who’ve never tried, is difficult enough, but when you’re six, it’s utterly impossible. I wouldn’t have done it but I had read that it was a powerful spell and I had worked for two days to find everything I needed. We already had so little and everyone was gathering things for something else so supplies was limited and most of what I had gathered was taken on the sly. I hated using stolen goods and feared my spell may be compromised with the weight of the crime but I couldn’t think about that now.

When I found a decent clearing, I took out the supplies I’d gathered and began my work. Using a small flashlight I scoured the ground for fallen leaves not dried up yet, and folded the hem of my shirt to gather them in. When I had around fifty of them I took a marker from my pack. For every leaf I had found I wrote the name of one person from town on it. Earlier I had asked Michonne for a list so that I could cast spells to protect everyone individually. She had teared up when I asked it and I delivered the list to me without question.

With everyone’s name, including my own, on their individual leaf I organized them in a wide circle with the petiole of the leaves touching the tip of the one next to them like joined hands. Inside the circle I put my charm bracelet, arranging it in a smaller circle and inside that I put a white candle which I lit.

Then around all of it I drew a larger circle that I stayed inside myself.

The waning moon shone high and I clasped my hands, closing my eyes tight in prayer.

“Three times the rings go round All evil shall stay on the ground If any evil is near this place It cannot harm those in this space Three times three So mote it Be!”

I repeated the spell twice more and when done I sighed, finished with the spell and hoping dearly it had worked. The wind blew and I opened my eyes, but it made me wish I had kept them closed the next minute.

My gasp sliced through all other sound as I stared at the previously empty space. My heart pounded in my throat and it was all I could do to keep from screaming.

Surrounding me in a perfect circle, were dozens of walkers, of which I was certain were nowhere near this place before I had chanted the spell. Their sunken eyes stared at me in hunger and their moans filled the silence. I was frozen in sheer terror, certain that this would be my last moments alive before they pounced to devour me whole.

Clouds moved in front of the moon and the wind blew out the fragile flame of my candle in a soft and subtle, PUFF!

…And then the world was black and cold.

* * *

 **Invasion**  
My head spun. My mouth tasted bad and there was drool dripping from the corner of my lips. My body was twisted up in an awkward sleeping position and I was cold. Sluggishly I lifted my head and stared through a dozen or so leaves sticking to my face.

Blearily I looked around my surroundings, wondering what had happened last night. I spotted the candle and the circles I had made from the dirt, the leaves, and my bracelet and everything came flooding back.

The spell! Had it worked?

And the walkers!

Oh no, the walkers!

I should’ve been dead. I should have bite marks and blood pouring from every inch of my body. I should be devouring and biting and savage the same as any of those other undead monsters. But I wasn’t.

I was alright.

Moaning interrupted my thoughts just then and I turned to see a walker trudging straight towards me. I scrambled up, tripping over my own feet as I backed against a tree in horror, thinking that if I wasn’t dead, I would be shortly.

My arms flew over my head, prepared for when it would fall to bite and chew me up till my blood painted the ground. But it only hobbled passed me like it hadn’t noticed.

“Huh?”

I looked back at it in confusion. What was that about? Did that mean—OH NO!

Was I already dead? Was this what undead life was like? I was probably dead; a spirit wondering around without a body. I’d meet Hershel and Beth and Glenn and Mom and all the rest very soon.

Oh no please don’t let me be dead! It would kill my Dad! Absolutely kill him if I was dead! I didn’t want him in anymore pain. I had to take care of him and I could only do it properly if I was alive—alive so I could touch and talk and hold him!

In the time it had taken me to get thoroughly panicked, I realized this wasn’t how I should have felt. Hershel and Dale and everyone else could testify to that. I didn’t feel much different than how I normally felt. I looked down at my hands in observation; they were scratched up, but looked healthy enough from my perspective. Not shrunken or gnarled like regular walkers. So maybe I wasn’t dead after all.

No. I wasn’t dead.

Just then the sound of horns and large engines drew my attention. I turned in the direction of the road and realized the bad men Michonne had told me about were on their way. I scrambled to grab my charm bracelet from the ground and sprinted towards the wall.

This time was harder to get over than it was the first. My body was stiff from sleeping in that awkward position all night and the footholds were harder to find than they were before. Thinking of it now I’m not sure how that could have been.

Maybe I was just panicked, compared to last time when I was climbing over calmly. I ended up ripping the right knee of my pants as I swung my legs over. Added to that, I slipped and landed the last few feet roughly on my back scraping my elbows pretty bad and winding me enough that I couldn’t move for at least a minute.

I breathed carefully, inching back to my feet. I limped my way home only to stop as someone else stole my attention.

I saw Glenn, or rather, Glenn’s back as he skidded into the garage of a nearby house. Curiously I followed him. Once inside I saw him holding his head in anguish.

“Glenn?” I asked tentatively entering inside.

“It was him.” He whispered, raising his head and staring down at his hands. “He’s here; the one that did it. I’m dead and I can still feel it. I can feel what happened. And Maggie… she was there. Oh god she saw it all. And the baby! Our baby!” Then he turned towards me. His face was at first normal, but then it began to change. It was peeling away, like paint peeling off of walls after years and years of neglect. It peeled away, blowing in some imaginary breeze till his head was all gone and he fell to his knees. His body slowly began peeling away as well, in a large cloud of ash.

“Glenn?” I knelt with him, reaching towards his shoulder still crumbling while he sat hunched and holding his vanishing head. “I want to help you. How can I help you? Please, talk to me.”

“Hey!”

I jumped and saw one of the intruding men in the doorway. “Out kid!” He barked. “We’re taking it from here.”

Glenn had vanished from me when they came bursting in. Skidding to my feet I dodged out, cautious and careful about whom I met. I made it to the streets and saw dozens of groups of people, all strangers, combing through every home and taking anything that wasn’t nailed down.

My thoughts turned back to my friend, worry freezing my blood solid.

Glenn wasn’t gone, that much I knew. He was still lingering, but he was in hiding. He wasn’t going to come out until the danger had passed. Sometimes souls that died so violently can’t bear the sight of the ones that took their lives. Sometimes the living haunted the ones they killed. And until the threat was long gone I couldn’t search to console him.

Just then I turned to see my father and a man I didn’t know speaking with one another outside one of the apartments.

It could only have been Negan, the warlord that had hold of us all, the same man that Dad had spoken to everyone about.

It was the first time I ever saw him. He smiled in a way that looked like he owned the world and walked with all the competence of a drunken man. I hated him immediately.

My father looked cowed near him while Negan and his goons strutted around Alexandria with an arrogant swagger that made the blood boil beneath my skin. Dad had wanted me to stay hidden during their visit but I decided to follow the two of them; watching this enemy to study his moves.

I followed a path that kept their backs always towards me and yet still within earshot of what they discussed.

The more Negan talked the more my hatred for him grew.

I saw Daryl as well but he was not how I knew him. He wore a dirty sweatshirt and matching sweat pants with a giant letter A spray painted on the front of it; so different from his winged vest and sleeveless button-up shirts. When my father had tried to speak with him Negan had shut them both up abruptly. None of us were allowed to address him and vice versa. Suddenly I remembered something as I dug in my pocket. It was a squirrel button I had found for him.

Long before all this we had talked about the charms on my bracelet and I told them how each one represented someone dead.

I picked through them, telling him about each, I had even found one for his brother Merle. Everyone already knew I saw things like that. People we had lost, people I had never even met and no one had spoken about with me. Sometimes it scared people, sometimes it upset them, but there was the rare moment when it would give them hope.

I had chosen a fishhook for Merle, and Daryl had asked if it was because he lost an arm, but I hadn’t even known. They always appeared whole to me. Any limbs lost in life were restored in their spirits. I chose the fishhook because when I had seen him he reminded me somehow of a big alligator and the hook was to represent that.

I told Daryl that I had found a charm that reminded me of _him_ a few days ago as well and I pulled out a squirrel button to show off.

“I’m not a _squirrel_!” He announced when I showed him the trinket.

“Yes you are.” I argued. “Squirrels are fast and can escape easy and they have really good aim for throwing things at people, and they’re smart foragers and they love the forest and the trees, just like you. There’s nothing wrong with being a squirrel, Daryl Dixon.”

He had been quiet after that.

“I thought about finding an arrow head for you, but the squirrel felt best.”

That memory had taken place one year prior. I still had the squirrel button but I had a feeling it may have been needed somewhere else.

While everyone seemed occupied after a gunshot split through the air, I snuck up behind Daryl, tucked it discretely in his hand, and dodged away before anyone had noticed what had happened.

I continued to watch from a safe distance, keeping out of the radar of the strangers but always keeping my father in sight.

I tried to memorize the truly horrible ones, for future reference. Like the ones who took all the guns, the ones who took all the medicine, the ones that took Olivia’s favorite chair, the one that teased Enid, the ones that took all the mattresses and the ones in _our_ house namely. I made myself remember them all.

But I made myself remember Negan the most.

In all honesty, I really didn’t want to; I wanted to forget it all, like a bad dream, but I made myself remember. I made myself look. It was important for when I would help crush all of them. I wanted to remember every one who would get what was coming to them eventually.

* * *

 **To be Strong like Thunder**  
I turned round the corner of our hallway and caught the sight of my dad arranging some sheets and blankets on the floor of his and Michonne’s room. Without the bed and mattress it looked bare and strange. At the sight of him, my anger for the Saviors melted into pity. Dad looked so broken.

He saw me lingering in the doorway just then and paused.

“Did… did you need something, honey?”

My mattress was gone, too, though they at least left the blankets. I knew he felt worse than I did but I didn’t know what to say to make him feel better, so I just came over and took a corner of the sheet he was arranging to help him spread it out.

“We could make some hammocks.” I offered shyly as we spread the comforter out.

He paused and looked down at me. Then for the first time in that long weary week, I saw him manage something of a sad smile just for me. “Yeah… we could couldn’t we.”

“I’ve seen knot beds, too, in pictures from a book.” I added positioning a pillow on Michonne’s side. “They hammer a big wooden box together and then tie a net into the frame and people lay down on it.”

“That’s a really good idea.” He said softly. He knelt there for a moment and observed the finished progress of our work. It looked weird and sad, but neither of us commented on it. It was quiet for a long time. Dad seemed to be lost in a daze and I wasn’t sure if I should even try talking.

Finally I just decided to go to him and wrap my tiny arms around his slumped shoulders, bringing him in a secure hold as I tried to keep him calm. My gesture didn’t quite have the affect I intended. I felt him stiffen for a moment and then begin to tremble as his hands rose slowly to rest on my arms.

Then he regained his strength, sniffing slightly as he gently untangled from my embrace. His hands were still on mine as he moved me to the side so he could look at me carefully. I looked into his eyes and saw desperation and confliction behind them, but I stayed silent as I listened to his words.

“Judith, I need to ask you to do something for me.”

“What, Daddy?”

“I… in the next few weeks things might get a little scary. Those people that were here today are… aren’t nice people and I need you to make sure that you don’t cross them, understand?”

“I know. Michonne told me. I won’t attract their attention.”

“There’s one more thing that I need you to do.” He said. “I need you to be strong for me? Can you do that?”

I didn’t need to think about it. “Yes, Dad. I’ll always be strong—like you.”

It was like he had a spasm at those words but he tried hard not to show it to me. “No. Not like me, Judith. Be strong like… like…”

“Like thunder?”

He worked up another sad smile and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yes, like thunder.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“Thank you.” Then he got up, standing like a tower next to me. “Why don’t we make your bed now, kay?”

I took his hand and followed him down the hall to my room.

* * *

 **Vendetta**  
That night I added two new charms to the chain. I made it the first time Tyrone came to me and I decided I wanted something solid to use to think of them—to represent each of them. There were no pictures of any of them that we had. I had heard of charm bracelets before and thought that maybe I could use those to represent each of these spirits. It made sense at the time.

As I secured the glass Purple Heart and a racecar I used to represent Abraham and Glenn respectively, I stared down at the chain before turning to my now emptier room.

A bitter seed was planted in my chest at the sight of it. I could feel the blood pounding in my ears while I stewed over the events of the day.

They came early, barely left us anything, and demanded we have something next week a lot more interesting. I had read and watched movies about villains; Voldemort, Joker, Maleficent, Ursula, and all of the rest, but none of them compared to these real monsters.

This man, these people, they were less than human! I hated them. Six years old and I hated them with every fiber of my soul! My father wouldn’t fight them. We didn’t have the numbers or the weapons now. We couldn’t scrounge enough to satisfy them. What on earth could I do? How could I help them?

Michonne and Carl said it was nothing for me to worry about, but there I was, worrying about it all the same.

Every day people went out to find more and more and the scavengers came every week to take whatever we had. Everyone was being watched. Everyone was targeted. Everyone… but me.

I found myself staring at the town wall a lot of the time. Thinking deep about the one time I had ventured out on my own. I could see the circle of walkers every time I closed my eyes. I could see their eyes, the hunger inside them. Why didn’t they attack me? Why didn’t they kill me? Why wasn’t I dead?

These questions would not ease and I debated bringing my concerns to someone trustworthy, but I wasn’t sure who that was anymore. My father handed everything over to them. He was terrified and I didn’t truly know what he would do if I were to tell him of it.

Was this what it had come to? Was I questioning the trust of my own father?

I didn’t know what to do? There was so much weighing me down. People told me I wasn’t to worry about it. It was not my place to have these worries. Everyone would do their part to take care of each other and me. Somehow we would get through it all. The other kids around town might have put it out of their minds but I couldn’t. As I walked the length of the wall and listened to the moans of the walkers behind it, there was no room in me except worry.

Finally I could stand it no longer. Right after I turned seven, I got up from my bedin the middle of the night and used Carl’s route once more to sneak over the walls.

I was scared—more than scared actually, but I forced myself forward until I found a walker. Its dead eyes searched the ground, following some unseen path to fill a never ending appetite.

Swallowing hard, I stepped out from my spot behind the tree and stood right before it in challenge. It stopped dead and surveyed me in consideration while I looked straight back at it, waiting for when it would move.

Finally, it began to totter around, sauntering away back to where it had come from.

I stared back, stunned and unable to move. A cold sweat had grown on the back of my neck as I stood there with my body entirely tensed, forgetting to breath or move. When it finally began to amble away and my suspicions were confirmed, I all but collapsed on the ground in relief.

So for one reason or another, the walkers didn’t come near me.

But… why?

Was it because of the spell? Did I really have magical powers? I looked down at my hands in awe at the idea.

Was I… a witch?

* * *

 **Tattletale**  
“Carl? What are you doing?” Normally I didn’t sneak up on him like that but for some reason watching him climb over the fence felt different today.

“Nothing.” He said, “I’m just going out.”

“Going out where?”

“Enid went to the Hilltop. I’m just going to make sure she gets there safely.”

Somehow that didn’t feel entirely true. I knew he was angry from this morning about Dad leaving with Aaron to get more supplies. Michonne had left too for some reason, but she wouldn’t say why. The determined furious look in her eyes told me she was out for blood. It was the same look Carl had in his eye right now.

“You’re going to try and kill Negan aren’t you?!”

Carl went quiet and he didn’t move for a moment. His reaction was as good as admitting it.

“You’re not going to kill him, Carl!” I rounded on him, with a matter-of-fact tone. “You’re going to mess up! You can’t see right and you’re going to mess up killing him and he’s going to get pissed and rather than kill just you he’s going to come back here and kill someone else for it!”

“I won’t mess up!” He announced, continuing to scale up the wall.

“Yes you will!” I yelled. “You have terrible aim now. I saw the dart board! You couldn’t even hit that and you really think you’re going to kill Negan! You’re stupid, Carl! And I’m going to tell if you leave!”

“Fine!” He shouted, “Tell if you want! See if I care!”

“You will if you mess up because of your stupid disability now!”

“I am not disabled! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Well you don’t know what _you’re_ doing—like always! Michonne already went to go kill Negan herself and she doesn’t need you in her way.”

That made Carl pause as he glanced over his shoulder down at me.

“Minchonne told you that?”

“I could tell. She gets this look in her eye when she’s thinking of doing something risky. And she went out all on her own and had her sword with her!”

“She might need help then.”

“Michonne was out there all on her own before we met her.” I announced with certainty. “She’s brave and can take care of herself. Enid can, too. They’re both strong. But _you’re_ not! I’m telling you now, if you leave you’re going to mess up!”

He looked so angry about being held back. There was so much need for vengeance raging inside him he looked like he might scream.

“Why do you have to be like this? Just let me do what I have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything! But if you try to do something this dumb, you’re not going to be the one who pays for it! Haven’t you figured that out yet! You’re not the only one who wants to kill him, Carl. So stop being selfish!”

His gaze wavered on me before turning back to the footholds, hesitantly wondering if he would take another step up. He stayed that way for a long time, leaving us both to wonder if he would turn back or not before he finally began to scale down.

* * *

 **Hypocrite**  
Dad was back that afternoon. Michonne not far behind him, looking defeated. So her attempt had bore not fruit in the end. If she of all people had failed then it had been wise of me to stop Carl when I did.

Dad and Aaron had really scored some good supplies they found in a boat house. No one really celebrated or looked through it all, especially since all of it was only going to go to our enemies. Even after that we weren’t completely sure it would be enough to satisfy the Saviors when they got here in a few days, so he would be going out again soon. He considered venturing to DC to look around the small houses and shops around the edge of the suburbs. Going too deep into the city was unsafe, but he figured that it might have been okay if they stuck to the outskirts to make an easy getaway if need be.

Carl was up in his room, seething and pissed that I had made him stay, and from the frequent THUMP THUMP THUMP against the wall I could tell he was taking his anger out on the dart board. He’d get over it though, somehow.

In the meantime I had bigger things to worry about than nursing his ego.

I was still wondering about the spell I had cast around town and my encounter with the circle of dead that had miraculously neglected to kill me. Every time I closed my eyes I saw them surrounding me and I couldn’t grasp how it was possible I was still alive somehow.

There were a few times I considered consulting Michonne at the least, but after the Saviors came again the next week to pick up their tribute, I chickened out and decided to keep it to myself. The very last thing I wanted was for such a secret to get back to Negan.

I didn’t even want to imagine the horror that could befall us should the news reach that monster that there was someone who was immune to the dead. The constant thought of it continued to taunt me at every waking moment: when I was sitting in school with the other kids, when I was making dinner with my family, or when I was doing my chores around the town. The only place that gave me any real peace was the forest and every day afterwards its call beckoned me like a siren’s song.

It finally became too much for me to resist and I chose to slip out of our walls one more time to see what lied in its wake.

I had made a big stink about Carl sneaking over the fence, but I wasn’t thinking of playing assassin and risking everyone’s lives the way he had been, so he had no right to tattle. Still, it was probably a good idea to be as sneaky as I possibly could. I knew well that if anyone caught me over the other side, I’d be stopped and in big trouble immediately.

As I looked over to the tree line, though, I had a strange feeling that the woods were the single place in the world I could actually be safe.

* * *

 

**Author's notes: Something kind of interesting that I feel I should mention is that the squirrel button Judith uses to represent Daryl Dixon is based off an actual squirrel button that a little girl gave to Norman Reedus at a convention. Originally I wanted to use an old arrowhead like Judith describes but after seeing that video I knew that wouldn't do. If you get a chance and haven't seen it yet you should definitely look it up on YouTube. It's the cutest thing ever!**


	3. The Witch

**Chapter 3**  
**The Witch**

Over the course of the next few weeks, I found opportunities to wonder around the woods alone. Summer was not far off and school would be let out more frequently to help with farming and other important projects, so there was that to be grateful for. If I was sly, I could occasionally trick whatever caretaker or babysitter was in charge of me by saying I’d be at the community playground for a while and then sneak into the woods to experiment more with this strange power.

What I was certain about was that walkers somehow didn’t come near me. If I made noise or whatever it would attract them but the moment they caught sight of me, they would turn away, entirely disinterested for one reason or another.

I still didn’t understand why though, other than concluding I had some kind of superpower that made them turn away, the same way I was sometimes able to see people that no one else could see. What did this mean?

I soon found that other things, like wild dogs and animals, were not so swayed away from whatever magic I held over the walking dead.

I remember the first time I heard those howls in the distance and the sound of the pounding feet that raced towards me. Heart in my throat, I sprinted in a direction, tripping over branches as I made my escape. They were right behind me though and I could feel the snaps of their jaws as they attempted to take chunks off of my legs.

Running almost blind I passed something like an enormous shrine. I didn’t get a good look at it, not at all. I was more concentrated on fleeing for my life. But I do remember the crowd of stone people as I threaded through them to escape the dogs. Their faces were gaunt and haunting, like the walkers but unlike them, none moved.

The dogs followed through the frozen dead, searching for a way to cut me off. I kept running. Suddenly the ground disappeared beneath me and I felt myself falling. A cry left my mouth but it was cut off as something caught me shakily. It bobbed and swayed and when I looked up I realized it was a boat in the water. I could hear the dogs’ padded feet beating the ground as they charged forward.

Frantically, I searched for the oars but there were none; nothing but a long rope connected to a ring nailed into the wood. Thinking quick, I tugged on it and the boat began to move forward. The dogs came into view just then and one was going so fast it missed the same drop I had, only the boat was not there to catch it as it had done for me.

I watched the others barking on the stone fixture that may have been a bridge at one point, but had now crumbled away to form an awkward sort of dock. The one that had fallen into the water barked helplessly as the strong current carried it down stream. My little seven year old heart reached out for it, despite its intentions of making me dinner moments prior.

I continued to tug on the rope, not just because I had no other option but also out of curiosity to know where the end of it was. While I continued, I saw things in the water. More statues like the ones in the strange stone crowd, only these seemed to be reaching out, frozen in their desperation to break free of the strange haunted waters.

The boat must’ve traveled not much over a hundred feet before I knocked against something.

It was the other end of the dock… or bridge really. This was where the end of the rope was connected to and as I climbed up onto the stone the mist that was gathered around the river and the statues began to thin a little bit. I followed a path and walked up it. The further up I got to wherever this trail led, the more I began to see and hear. The smells carried on the wind were heavenly and rich with vegetation and the air seemed to get warmer somehow.

Then the mist broke completely and I found myself standing in a garden. The most beautiful garden I’d ever seen.

There were flowers and trees and plants of every kind. Not just that but it looked like I had stumbled on the ruins of a long forgotten church since there were odd stone fixtures like the remnants of pillars and arches. There were fountains and little ponds and more statues here as well. Maybe they were saints or bishops like the ones Father Gabriel sometimes talked about. Most of them were of women though, so maybe they were nuns, but they were much different from the nuns I’d seen in pictures. In fact these people didn’t wear the veils and dresses of average celibates. They seemed much more fairy-like and well… exposed. There was even a mermaid in one of the fountains, so maybe it wasn’t a church so much as a temple.

When the light hit just right, it filtered in through what was left of colorful stained glass windows at the far end and created even more rainbows on the ground.

Where was I?

I turned about, wondering how I could have gone through such a foreboding forest, only to wind up here. I felt like Belle’s father from the tell old tale of Beauty and the Beast when he ran through the haunted forest to find himself in the magical palace.

This was not a palace, not in the typical sense at least; well it did have a tower, but even I knew it was nowhere big enough to be considered a proper castle. Instead it was a cottage covered almost every inch with ivy vines and morning glories, but that didn’t dispel its enchantment; only enhanced it.

More fascinated than ever, I neared the cottage and slipped inside peering around. It probably wasn’t a good idea to enter a home that was so obviously inhabited, but my interest to know if there was anything our town might need inside, drove me forward.

I found myself in a place just as peculiar as the garden. It was a large living area with a Victorian décor. It had a couch, recliner and a matching coffee table littered with papers, books and writing equipment all over its surface. An ancient looking gramophone stood near the assembly with records propped next to it.

Off towards the far end was a very dated kitchenette complete with a cooking hearth holding all manner of iron pots and pans as well as utensils. Beside it were shelves and counters covered with various ingredients and recipe books. Just to the left of that were the doors of a glass green house leading off into the garden outside.

There were odd tomes that rested on near every shelf, little crystals here and there, totems and drying plants that hung from the ceiling and walls, and inscriptions written and carved over the wooden boards.

The more I studied this odd building the more curious I became.

“Where am I?” I asked to no one in particular.

I wasn’t expecting someone to answer me.

“Well this is a surprise.”

I turned sharply and saw an old woman sitting in the chair where I knew she hadn’t been a moment before. My heart leapt in my throat and I jumped right off the step I was on in surprise. Even if the old woman smiled kindly at me, I was still set on edge.

Strangers were dangerous, even more if they were friendly.

“I don’t get many visitors here and I wasn’t expecting anyone to drop by.”

“I… I didn’t know I was on private property.” I stated quickly, moving towards the door. “I’ll leave.”

She waved it off. “Not private anymore I’m afraid.”

“But… this is your house isn’t it?” I gestured around the very nice cottage.

“It _was_.”

“You… you gave it away?” I asked noting the past tense.

“Not exactly. I just don’t have any need of it anymore.”

I frowned, totally confused. “B-but it’s a really nice house, and it’s a really nice garden, and it seems to be well protected if there are no walkers around. Why wouldn’t you have need of a place like this?”

“Well it’s not entirely walker-free now is it?” She pointed behind me just then and I jumped once more to see a dead-eyed body staring right at me. But when I turned around she seemed to wander away, looking for an alternate escape route from the house.

“Look at that fool.” The woman commented, tilting her head sadly as she stared at the sight of it. “See how she stumbles around, swatting at the curtains, clawing at the window? Nothing but a car without a driver she is.”

I had to do a double take as I looked from the woman to the walker, twice over. “But… that’s you! You’re that thing!”

She chuckled. “Yeah, go figure. I obviously slipped on the bathtub floor as I was getting dressed, knocked myself out and drowned in the water. Brain wasn’t damaged, just put me to sleep long enough to do the job. Show’s you just how close all of us are to an accident.”

This was strange, I knew she was a spirit, but spirits didn’t tend to act like her. They didn’t act like normal people. They were fickle and came and went as they liked. Most acted as if they were sleep-walking a lot of the time. I only saw our friends occasionally, and they spoke in few words. Hershel and Dale were the only two that really talked to me in complete sentences but even those were brief and rare.

This woman was much different from usual ghosts, though.

Curiously, I turned around in the cottage. “What is this place?”

“My home, where I live—or lived I guess.”

My eyes floated toward the herbs hanging to dry, the old tomes on the shelves, the crystals, the symbols carved into the woodwork, and the charms scattered around. “Are you… a witch?”

“To some I was, at least.”

That may have explained why she acted so different from typical spirits, but it also turned up a lot of confusion for me. I looked around a bit more, searching for something I didn’t see. “Well then where’s your broom? And your cat? And your wand?”

She scoffed. “You think I’m like those fairytales you’ve filled your fluffy brain with?”

“Well… they are witches aren’t they?”

“They are stories!” She turned back to her stumbling hungry body. “My, my. I’ve never seen the dead ones bat away from a person before. Usually it’s quite the opposite,” She examined the response of her animated corpse as it worked to find escape from the house and from me, “but she does **not** like you.”

“Why not?” I asked her.”Why do they try and run away from me? Why am I different? Is there something wrong with me?”

“Not sure. You might be an evil they’re trying to escape from. You might have an invisible bubble around you that burns their brains, or you might just stink an ungodly foul to them.” Then she shrugged. “And in any case why question it? You are protected from them. They don’t want you and you don’t want them. Consider yourself lucky, Child, and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

I continued to walk around the cabin examining the items strewn about with deep fascination. The spirit of the witch continued to watch her struggling walker as it lurched this way and that, always trying to remain the furthest distance from me.

Absently I picked up a crystal and turned it over in my hands. “Do you know any spells?”

“Some.”

“And magic?”

“In a sense.”

I turned to the ghost. “Would you teach them to _me_?”

She scoffed. “Why would you want to learn that nonsense?”

“You didn’t think it was nonsense. Otherwise you wouldn’t do it.”

She chuckled darkly. “You don’t believe in magic.”

“Yes I do.”

“Not anymore!” She declared with undeniable certainty, and the look she gave me just then was as if she were looking straight into my soul. “Not since that man came and broke your father. Not since that man killed your friends. Not since all you’ve been able to do lately is watch the lives of the people you love most fall apart around you. You’ve lost the magic!”

“But I haven’t.” I said stubbornly, swallowing back a sea of tears. How could she have known those things about me? Well she was a witch so she probably knew a lot about me just by looking at my face. “It’s in me! That’s why they don’t bother me. I cast a spell of protection and I don’t know how, but it worked.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

She paused, chewing her lip as she looked away in thought. Only the moans of her undead body were heard as she debated something. After a moment she slowly looked back my way. “Are you sure you want to learn? The magic I wield isn’t like Harry Potter. There’s no dueling or wand waving and no magical school of wizards and witches. It’ll just be you, me, and this hut every day. If you go forward, you don’t stop. Do you still want to learn?”

I didn’t need to think about it. “Yes.”

“Fine.” She said getting up for the first time. “But first, we put that poor wretched beast out of her misery.”

I turned and looked at the body, moaning and growling for a way out.

“What? You mean kill it? But she won’t let me get close enough. And I’m not even tall enough to reach her skull and… I’ve never killed something before.”

“Now you will.” She pointed to the ceiling. “Go upstairs. There’s a revolver in my bedside table. Get it and bring it here.”

I knew what was coming but obeyed anyways.

“Have you ever shot anything?” She asked, both of us turning to the scrambling meat shell.

“No.”

“Now you will.”

She instructed me on how to hold it, where the safety was, and how to aim. It felt strange to hold a gun. I had seen them before, but my no one would let me hold one, not yet at least.

“Wait.” I stopped before I pulled the trigger. “If I do this, won’t you be gone?”

“I’m already gone, child. This beast is just a suffering wondering shell, unsatisfied and always hungry. It pains me to watch what was mine being turned to this. Have you ever felt like that?”

I looked down sadly. “…Always.”

It took three times before I finally managed to strike it in the left cheek. The shots were loud and woke all the birds in the garden. When the bullet hit its mark, the body hit the ground and it hit hard.

The witch’s spirit did not disappear as I had expected and she looked upon the lifeless thing now with partial indifference.

“That’s that then.” And then she looked me up and down, scoffing once again that day. “Gods you’re puny. I hope you’re stronger than you look, child.”

Upon her order I was made to drag her corpse all the way out of the hut, inch by inch. When I finally got it to the place the witch instructed she pointed to a shovel leaning against the shed door.

“Have you ever dug a grave?”

I wiped my brow and panted. “No.”

“Now you will.”

I dug the way I had seen the adults do, but in the end it didn’t look very straight and was near impossible for me to climb out of once finished. I was about to roll her in but the witch stopped me.

“Wait.”

“For what?”

“Go inside, find the pliers on the table and come back out again.”

I hesitated, uncertain what would entail but after a sharp “now” from the witch, I obeyed.

“Open the mouth and take a tooth.”

I was appalled. “What? Why?”

“When we are buried we must be at peace, for those of us who are at peace with their death. I am at peace,” she announced, “so when the last grains of dust fall on me I will be gone, but should you keep a piece of me, I may return to teach you as often as you need.”

I wasn’t totally sure what the rhyming was for but it made me hesitate even so. “Does it have to be a tooth? Can’t it be a lock of hair?”

“No.” She said sharply. “Bones are stronger, bones last longer. Take a tooth.”

I didn’t want to put my hands anywhere near the mouth, but I did as she instructed. It was stubbornly uncooperative. I’m sure it must’ve taken well at least ten minutes before I finally worked it free with a sickening sticky pop.

I grimaced at the bloody mess, wiping it off on her shirt and was prepared to stick it in my pocket.

“Do not put it with the rest.” The witch announced, gesturing to the other charms around my neck. “Leave them out of these affairs. Keep them safe from further harm.” Then she stood and moved towards the cottage once again. “And you best be getting used to seeing blood. You will see much of it.”

And with that she left me to fill her grave alone.

I didn’t see her again as I was leaving in the boat once more. The dogs were thankfully gone when I reached the opposite bank but it was late and I knew I had to get home before my father noticed I was not in town. Sometime while I was running for my life, I had gotten turned around in the forest, but by following a herd of walkers they led me to the road that I hoped would lead me back to Alexandria.

It was later than I had wanted when I returned home and when my father found me walking down the road from the apartments I was in trouble for not coming when he had called. I had worried him but thankfully they hadn’t sent a search party out for me.

When he asked where I had gone I told him I went looking for hiding places the next time Negan and his men showed up.

That seemed to quiet my father and he sighed. I knew he wouldn’t want me near those men again and didn’t discourage the idea of hiding the next time they were in town. It seemed like a proper enough excuse then next time I needed one so I kept it in mind for later.


	4. White Magic

**Chapter 4**  
**White Magic**

“Why do you want to learn these things?” The witch asked me the next time I arrived at her home. As she had instructed I did not add her to the charms around my neck. Instead I had glued her tooth to a chain link then connected that to a braid of twine I wore around my ankle hidden in my boot.

“I want to protect my family.” I said, answering her question.

“Protect them.” She snorted. “I wanted to protect _my_ family.”

“You didn’t?”

“…No.”

“I’m sorry.” And I really was. I knew that pain.

“Nothing can be done about it now.” Then she turned to me. “What kind of spells do you want to learn?”

“Well… useful ones I guess. How to give someone back their strength. How to keep travelers safe. How to ward off bad dreams and bring good ones. How to find things we need. Ooh I’d like to heighten my senses. I think that would be cool.”

“You want to know white magic.”

I shrugged. “It’s the best kind.”

“The simplest too but, not always the most prospective. Faith is greatly needed in all magic, but particularly white magic. The fail-rate is higher with it than others.”

“Like black magic and curses?”

Her tone grew dark as she looked down on me with those yellow eyes of hers. “Black magic involves the dead, the things that slither, crawl, and bite. It involves selling your soul.”

I shook my head at the thought. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Good. That is wise. And we won’t be learning that either way.” Then she called me over to her. Her hand went to my face. Though she could not touch me, I lifted it at her direction. She looked at me as if she were seeing into my soul. “You’re resourceful and adapt well to change. You’ve got remarkable strength and a strong sense of community… like the beetle.”

“And… that’s good?” I asked timidly.

“Beetles are powerful. The ancients have a certain fondness for beetles. They adapt well, are found on every continent and will live on billions of years after humans have gone, which may be much sooner than we all expected.”

“I’m not sure I’m really like a beetle. Are you sure I’m not more like a butterfly or a firefly?”

She stopped dead and spoke sternly. “Why? You want to live for a twenty-four hour life cycle or be pretty and flashy and dead because you attracted too many birds and predators that want a nice rainbow meal?”

I frowned glumly. “No, I guess not.”

She turned to a set of shelves in the living room and pointed up at a wooden box on the top. “Get a chair and get me my cards, girl. I want to see something.”

I did as I was told and brought down the little box following her over to the table. At her direction I opened it to reveal a deck of cards. “These aren’t regular playing cards.” I realized flipping through them to find odd pictures.”

“Shuffled them up and spread them over the surface of the table.”

I obeyed and waited for further instructions.

“You want to learn?”

“Yes.”

“Everything?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not frightened?”

“No.”

“Then look at the cards. Put your hand over them, just so; only your fingertips and _feel_.”

I did as I was told, hovering over them and I focused.

“Now let them move.” In a deep hush she leaned towards me and added with urgency, “ _Believe_.”

I inhaled through my nose and exhaled through my mouth, letting my mind clear as I began to feel something. There was a pulse as my hand drifted to the side. It pulsed again when I retracted to the same spot. They drifted over a card, pulsing again like there was a beating heart in my hand. For some reason this card was speaking to me. I reached out and took it.

“Do I flip it over?” I asked her.

“There’s no need.”

Confused, I looked over my shoulder only to find her back to me as she turned to the door.

“Come, girl, we have work to do.”

Speechlessly, I looked from her to the card I had pulled and paused. Before following I sated my curiosity and flipped the card over:

**The High Priestess**

I was confused by her reaction but I followed her out, hoping that I could gain some answers about what the card had meant.

We crossed with the boat and continued the conversation in the forest, strolling down a game path.

“Casting the tarot is a gift.” She explained. “When you know the arcane you can hear the echo of time in your ear. In time you will learn their meanings.”

“What does the High Priestess mean?”

“What do you think it means?”

“Holiness?”

Her brow rose in amusement as she glanced up and down at me in exasperation. “ _Really_? Come on. You can do better than that.”

I pouted in thought. It wasn’t my fault I didn’t know anything about tarot cards or the different meanings between them, but it looked like she really wanted me to try, so I remembered back to how the picture looked. She had been sitting between two pillars, one white and one black. There had been a fruit in her hands and the moon at her feet.

I closed my eyes for better thought, trying to think. “A… a choice. A balance between what’s dead and alive. And something like… temptation always within sight, trying to tip the scales?”

Vanessa looked pleased. “That’s the feeling. Don’t be getting too big for your britches, though. They don’t always mean what you would expect.” She walked on. “The High Priestess is also known as Persephone, Isis, the Corn Maiden and Artemis. She sits between the land of the living and the land of the dead. The pomegranate in her lap is a symbol of duty, because Persephone ate the fruit from the land of the dead she is forced to return to the underworld every year.

“Everything is symbolic as you’ve already discovered with those charms around your neck. Symbols represent people; they can guide them, too. Tell me about your father. Why do you use a star to represent him?”

I didn’t ask how she knew that. “Because he used to be a sheriff.”

“And why else?”

“I dunno. That’s all I suppose.”

“Try harder.” She snapped.

I thought hard as her harsh tone had instructed. “Stars… are forever. They shine brightest in the dark. When they die, it takes centuries for their flames to burn out. But I feel like these things don’t really describe my father anymore.”

“Why?”

“Well… lately he _has_ been burned out. Like someone snuffed out his flames.”

“Who was it?”

I hesitated, not liking to say his name in such a pretty place. It felt like a curse word. “A warlord. He calls himself Negan.”

“What would you use to represent this Negan were you to find a charm for him?”

I frowned. “I wouldn’t need to because I would never search for a charm for him. I hate him.” I stated firmly. “Charms are used for the people I love—people I care about. Not him!”

“I see then.” She murmured before nodding in approval. “That’s actually good.”

“It is?”

“Yes, I now see where your priorities lie. Not on revenge or some hidden agenda towards your own ideals of justice. You only seek to help people. Try not to change that.”

We walked in silence for a while before I asked a new question. “Will I only learn spells with you?”

“No. I have other things to teach you as well like plants and animals, how to pick locks, how to hunt, how to find water, food, and shelter. You probably don’t even know that we’ve passed about half a dozen sources of food in only three steps.”

I stared at her surprised before turning about to see what I may have missed. But everything just looked like ordinary grass and trees to me. Not good for eating at all.

Then she pointed to several plants in turn that I hadn’t noticed before, “Wild onion, purslane, clover, dandelion, and pine.”

I looked back at her in confusion.

“But… you can’t eat pine. And dandelions are just weeds.”

“You’ll find a hidden magic in all plants. When out of everything else dandelions have long been used in salads and wine, are rich in vitamin A and are reputed to have curative and diuretic properties. You’ll also find that there’s a magic in its meaning. Dandelion is a corruption of the French _dent de lion_ , which in turn comes from the medieval apothecaries’ term _dens leonis_ , so-named because either the tap root, the florets, or the jagged edge of the leaves resemble a lion’s tooth. It is also connected to the sun, as is the lion; the flower’s appearance is very suggestive of ancient representations of the sun. It has many local names, including fair clock, swine snout, priest’s crown, puff ball and shepherd’s clock. In addition, the feathery seed-tufts serve as his barometer, predicting calm or storm. Children and lovers grant them special oracular powers and blow on them to judge the time, or to find out whether or not they are in their loved one’s thoughts.”

I stared at her dumbfounded, unable to speak for a long, long moment. In one lecture she had completely changed the way I looked at these yellow weeds. I hadn’t even known food like this was available in the forest. I assumed everything was just trees and bushes, maybe you might find some berries but even those could be questionable.

The witch turned back to me. “Little Beetle, if you learn my craft you will learn everything and I will see to it that you live long enough to put it to good use.” And then she introduced herself properly. “You may call me Vanessa Ives, and from now on, _I_ will be your teacher.”

I stared, uncertain about what to say. I had never imagined such a little plant could own so much weight and meaning. The wonder on my face must have shown because Vanessa went on.

“I can show you a whole other world, Beetle, hidden all around you. I can teach you the meanings of everything. Every single thing in the world has a greater purpose in spells and chemistry.” Her eyes grew big and her smile shone as she gazed back at me. “Oh the wonders you will find in my world. And I’ll share them all with you.”

My eyes sparkled with hope and longing.

With those words a marvelous door had been thrust open for me.

My family wouldn’t die. My father’s fight had been taken out of him, but I would fight for him now. I would be his instrument and make sure to take care of all the people we loved, in whatever way I could. If I needed to do so in secret then so I would do.

But Alexandria would live. Negan could take everything we had and more but I would give it back somehow, through work, through help, through hope. This woman’s spirit would grant me the ways to do it and I would learn everything she offered to give.


	5. Baa Baa Black Sheep

** Chapter 5  
Baa, Baa Black Sheep **

**_Three years later_ **

The years changed and the town changed with it. The walls expanded four times, creating inner and outer levels as the community grew. People came, people left. Some died but most were still alive despite all things considering. We continued to pay off Negan’s men. Everything in the surrounding areas had been picked dry though, so we settled our semimonthly tributes by farming and brewing alcoholic beverages like moonshine, beer, and whiskey.

I had a few tricks on how to find things, though; tricks that Vanessa taught me.

We had horses now, three cows, and four goats. A few times we had tried to raise pigs but for some reason it never worked out. Either Negan would take them all or we had to sacrifice them as bait to keep the walkers away.

It was hard finding opportunities to sneak out of town, but somehow I always managed. School interfered with it much of the time but spring had just started and soon summer would be upon us, and summer vacation with that, allowing me more opportunities to sneak out behind everyone’s backs. For the most part though, my ventures into the woods took place late at night or early in the morning.

Today especially was guaranteed to be very exciting. I might have burst with happiness if I weren’t already mentally dead.

After only an hour of sleep, Dad came into my room and woke me, announcing it was going to be another busy day.

I yawned feeling like a walker as I dragged my butt out of bed. It had been a busy enough _night_ for me. Normally I didn’t work while it was dark, but there were few opportunities I found to sneak off during the day, so night and early, early morning had to do it for me. I moved slowly through my morning routine: go to the bathroom, brush hair and teeth, splash some water on my face, get dressed, and meet everyone at the breakfast table.

Dad spooned me up some oatmeal and I shoveled it in my mouth before thinking to add honey to the bland flavor.

“Our elf made another delivery this morning.” Michonne announced bursting in the kitchen. Her smile filled the room and I knew why. “Now we got a flock of sheep and a lot of wool to shear off them.”

“Are you kidding? How do you know it was the elf?” My brother asked, surprised and then skeptical.

“I’m pretty sure,” Michonne insisted. She glanced over towards me as I ate my oatmeal and honey and I did my best to look surprised by her news, rousing myself to resemble something that looked sleepily excited. I wasn’t totally sure about her expression, whether she knew the truth or not, but she distracted my father and brother as she continued. “Not sure how long they were out there in the wild, but judging by the length of their coats, it’s been a long time. They’re long, thick and caked with dirt and who knows what else so we’re cancelling school today. Everybody helps out so no disappearing for hours.” She looked my way again and I nodded.

People knew I often disappeared for hours at a time on a regular day once all my chores and studies were finished, but they didn’t know where. They just assumed I had a hiding place I visited during my free time. Sometimes I felt like people wanted to complain about it, but I think they wanted me to take this time to play and enjoy life as much as I could. It helped that I was still a kid with fifteen other peers they tended to concentrate more on so keeping an eye on everyone tended to get a little complicated.

I looked towards Michonne forcing myself alert once more as I finished with my breakfast. “Okay. What can I do?” I was always eager to help, even if I was half dead.

Once everyone was done with their food we followed Michonne towards the middle of town where the community had set up a pen, of a sort, out of unused bed frames and old car doors, and were discussing their plans for how they would proceed. Nobody was much into shepherding back when the world was still in order and the amount of crud the animals had accumulated in the wild was staggering.

It was a challenge getting them here, that’s for sure. It was miraculous how I was able to even accomplish it. It was miraculous that I stumbled on them in the first place. It was miraculous they managed to survive so long.

Miraculous.

“Great you guys are here.” Kyle said, watching as we all approached. He turned towards the heard of twenty-five large grey rainclouds baying in the center of the pen. “We were just talking about how they managed to survive so long. Spencer believed that the thickness of their coats were what saved them. Walkers can’t exactly chew through all that wool.”

I can safely say through firsthand experience that that is exactly how they survived for so long.

The adults discussed a plan of attack while other members of the community gathered supplies like hedge sheers, tarps, mesh bags, dish soap, rubber gloves, and a large tin bathtub for boiling the wool clean. Ryan had a book on sheering he had found in one of the houses and directed people on how we would proceed.

The work started and didn’t stop till sundown. It was gross work. The fleeces were caked with dirt, bugs, stickers, manure and who knew what else. The sheep didn’t help all that much, either. They were skittish and bucked too damn much. Volunteers took turns sheering while others offered to hold the sheep down to keep the ball rolling. Once free of the suffocating hides, they were finally able to move about on their own. They looked relieved, in my opinion.

You’d think animals had never been so happy to be free of their own coats.

Although the work was grueling, it was nothing compared to what it was like to get them here.

It had been painstakingly difficult to round them all up and move them back home. It had started out as a herd of thirty or so, but walkers and rabid dogs had boiled that number down to a mere twenty-five once I finally got them all to the wall. Lucky the guard on duty had heard the baying before I needed to get too close and blow my cover.

My weekly trips into the forest alone were still a secret I wasn’t fully prepared to go public with just yet. Only Enid knew the truth but just because we had both caught each other wondering out alone one day. Out of mutual respect, we agreed not to tell on each other.

She was in awe by whatever power I held to keep them at bay. At first she wanted to tell the others, but I managed to convince her not to. Negan still had us under his thumb and I didn’t know what he would do if he found out about it. It persuaded her immediately. The last thing she wanted to do was to sell me out to that monster.

Apart from her, I believed Michonne probably suspected something at the time but had never said anything about it. Maybe she wanted to, but the level of success I achieved in foraging might’ve helped her turn a blind eye to it.

Every time I went in, I always made an effort to return with something whether it were acorns, herbs, fish, honey, meat, or manmade supplies; anything and everything useful that I could get my hands on.

So far, the sheep were my greatest accomplishment. Well… greatest accomplishment _alone_ that is. A few years back I had a helper… or maybe _I_ was the real helper. It made me sad thinking about my friend and how we had parted, but I had to push it aside before I could let it consume me. There were bigger matters to attend to after all.

It was hard to remember a time when my family looked so pleased with themselves. We’d be able to make clothes and blankets and mattresses with these animals. And if we ever needed it, they would feed us.

Countless times before I had found food and tools, medicine, maps, and homemade supplies. I usually placed them on the doorsteps of people who needed them most and kept in mind not to be spotted when doing it. I don’t’ think my father would have been pleased to find out that his nine year old daughter was running around walker infested woods alone with no escort. But I’d been doing it for almost three years by now and not a single walker so far had so much as tried to come near me. Not one.

But it wasn’t just walkers that were dangerous. Far from it. Walkers were a threat of the past. These days we had warlords breathing down our neck.

Or one in particular.

“You know the saddest thing about this?” Carl said as he took his turn to help sheer. I crouched by him, using my measly weight to pin the sheep as the scissors cut through the wool. “It almost doesn’t even matter. Most of these will go to that bastard the moment he sees them.”

I looked away.

Sometimes he could really make me mad. I had sweat and bled and risked my life to get these sheep here and even if he didn’t know it had been me, the least he could do was be a little grateful for the few we may actually manage to keep.

All I tried to do was make sure everyone was okay and alive for the next day, and the day after that. He may have helped but not after complaining first. There wasn’t a whole lot to be happy about when viewing our situation but it couldn’t have killed him to try for once!

Though I suppose it wasn’t his fault. He lost an eye and he had been there when they managed to break our father, now all anyone could really do was bare it all grudgingly.

My thoughts were lost as a force collided with my rear and knocked me off my feet. I landed hard in the dirt as I recognized the culprit that threw me to the ground.

It was the ram.

He had been a devil the entire journey and was a major factor in the herd’s survival in the first place. He _hated_ me.

Most of the threats we met along the way were pushed through thanks to him, but he hindered much of our progress by knocking into me every chance I carelessly turned my back to him. On the way back I had gotten to calling him Ram Dover and lost track of how many times he had plowed into me. I very nearly gave the flock up with the number of times he got the drop on me but I had to remind myself repeatedly it **would** be worth it in the end. Even so, my butt was probably decorated with purple patches by now, courtesy of his doing.

“Ugh! You!” I said getting up once more and dusting myself off as I faced the sheep jerk. “What’s your problem, you goat?!”

“Don’t get mad, honey.” My father consoled, coming behind the animal and leading him back with the others. He still had yet to be sheered and probably broke out of the enclosure just to run me over. “He’s just an animal protecting his flock. It was only this one time, so we’ll just have to be a little more careful from now on to not turn our back on him.”

I grit my teeth. _This one time?_ He had no idea!

I glared after the animal, making the “I’ve got my eyes on you” gesture once he faced me again behind the fence.

He bayed a threat I didn’t understand and I glared harder at him before turning back to complete our work.

* * *

 

“Those sheep are going to be a godsend to us.” Michonne announced. “Wool stuffing, wool socks, wool blankets and sweaters. All we have to do now is learn how to knit.”

“Just as long as Negan gets his pick out of everything.” Carl said bitterly.

I swallowed my mouthful of potato casserole and there was silence around the table.

“Maybe we could convince him that they’re too much trouble for him.” I suggested hopefully. “They eat a lot and attract too many walkers. And the sheering wasn’t exactly easy and the wool gets gross. Their medicine is hard to come by, they’re hard to protect, and the ram is a _jerk_.”

My father looked at me and smiled sadly, “You have a lot of good points.”

“Yeah, good points,” Carl muttered playing with his food angrily. “Unless he decides he wants lamb chops for dinner and makes us kill them all to ease the trouble.”

“We could say we didn’t know how long they were out there and they may have diseases.” I offered.

“None of us are dead yet so I’m not sure how well he’ll buy that.”

Did he really have to be like this? “I’m just offering suggestions, Carl!” I snapped at last. “You don’t have to rain on everyone’s parade all the time!”

I was frustrated with his attitude. I had gotten my butt kicked to get those sheep home—multiple times! And I’d do whatever I had to to make sure we’d manage to keep most of them.

Dad put our quarrel to rest. “Okay that’s enough out of both of you. When he comes I’ll see what I can do.”

I turned back to my plate, but Carl stood up sharply, finished with his food as he left the table. I was still angry with him even after dinner was cleaned up and wouldn’t wish him goodnight as I walked up to bed.

Sometime in the night though I was roused and walked downstairs to find Dad up lounging on the couch tiredly. I knew the expression on his face and recognized a nightmare.

The dream spell I had cast must’ve been wearing off again. They normally did rather quickly where he was concerned. He had so many demons riding on his back after all.

“Dad?”

He jumped and saw me in the doorway.

“Judith, what are you doing up?”

“Nothing. I just heard a noise and was seeing what it was.”

“Sorry.” He grumbled. “Didn’t mean to wake you up. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Let me get you something, okay,” I decided. Before he could refuse I was already in the kitchen boiling some water for a calming tea.

I added honey and brought it back in his favorite mug.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”  And he drank it to humor me. “That really hits the spot actually.”

I took a seat beside him and curled close. He swung his arm around me and let my head rest against him.

“When does Negan come?”

“In a week.”

“So… probably tomorrow then, ‘cause we all know he has no concept of time.”

He chuckled once but didn’t laugh.

“I really want to keep those sheep.” I told him.

“Me, too. But don’t be naming them just yet till we know the verdict.”

“It might be a little late for that. You know that ram jerk that kicked my butt?”

“I might recall.”

“I’m calling him Ram Dover.”

He really did laugh this time. “That’s pretty clever.”

We stayed quiet with his occasional sip of tea. Soon enough we both dozed off and woke only when Michonne came down to start breakfast the next morning and we sat in wait for when Negan or his men would show up to claim their goods.

Before leaving for my own chores I snuck upstairs to perform a luck spell.

I soon found that not all spells worked the same as others. Each spell worked differently and it was based mostly on the situation you were currently in. There were thousands and finding the right spell was the real trouble.

Finally I settled on one. I got out my secret store of ingredients and selected a brown candle, my iron horseshoe and a grey feather. I placed the horseshoe carefully on the wood of my bedroom floor with it facing towards me and standing the candle up inside it. I lit the wick and held the grey feather out, reciting the rhyme as it burned in the flame.

“Luck and prosperity come to our town Let the good rise up and the bad stay down

Allow the new sheep to remain And get the foul Saviors to abstain

Three times three So mote it be”

I recited it three times, enough to finish watching the feather burn out. The ash fell into the arch of the horseshoe and rather than blowing out the candle and risk blowing away the luck inside the horseshoe, I licked my fingers and smothered the flame with a tight pinch.

Breathing deep I looked at the display before turning towards my window. Staring out hopefully at the blue sky above, my heart ached desperately. I really hoped I did it right. Spells were so temperamental. If you didn’t do them precisely right then you risked losing the magic entirely and they wouldn’t work.

I was getting better at it, but Vanessa still said I had a long way to go before my success-rate was stronger.

Well the spell was done and I began packing everything back into my little wooden crate. The rest was up to fate and the talents of the town.

* * *

I was ecstatic.

The town had all banded together and through our skills of deception we’d managed to convince Negan’s men that the sheep were more trouble than they were worth. It had all become a rather theatrical event and had involved quite a bit of embarrassment on everyone’s part. I once more had to be subjected to Ram Dover’s horns as he plowed over me and had to make sure the men were there to see it. They had laughed and it sucked, but it had at least discouraged their eagerness to take the sheep off our hands.

Afterwards my dad was able to convince them not to load the flock in the trucks they had brought with them. Instead they agreed to let us raise the animals ourselves, but we of course had to agree to give over half of whatever fleece or goods we managed to grow from them in the future.

All the work and none of the reward… well almost none. We all knew it was the best deal we could get and thankfully the amount of fleece we had already was promised to last quite a long time. They still wanted the bit they were due but they hadn’t seen the animals before they were sheered and being able to successfully cheat them out of what they assumed was “half” felt really good.

I skipped down the street with Enid towards their pen area once the men were gone, delightfully singing with our luck.

“We get to keep the sheep ‘Cause we discouraged the creep And you snore when you sleep!”

Enid laughed. She felt just as good about it and went along with my teasing. “I don’t snore when I sleep, you snore when you sleep!

“You snore!”

“Your father snores!”

“Yes he does!”

We made it to the pen and found Father Gabriel standing straight and tall, staring at the flock with interest.

“I never assumed I would be looking after a literal flock before.” He announced as we approached. “But it seems everyone believes this would be the perfect job for me.”

“You’re going to be their shepherd?”

He turned, a smile on his features as he looked at us proudly. “Seems rather appropriate, wouldn’t you agree?”

I grinned. “Yeah. I think that would be great.”

“We should thank the father for this blessing he’s delivered to us. As well as our Elf who led them to our town.”

Enid and I both smiled by that and refused to look at each other for fear we may end up giving something away.

“I’ll bet the Elf is just glad they can help at all.” I said.

“If there is an elf…” Enid announced sarcastically.

The Elf had become something of my alternate persona around Alexandria. It was what most of the people had begun calling the gifts left randomly on our doorsteps. The medicine, the food, the small bits of hope. Someone had remembered the tale of the Elves and the Shoemaker and had chosen to dub the mysterious giver as such.

It hadn’t always been that way, though.

I at first left the gifts outside of the gate, hoping that the guard would spot them and choose to bring them in. But they had refused to so much as touch them, assuming it was a trick set by one of our thousands of enemies. Perhaps the food was drugged or poisoned or carried diseases. We had no medicine now thanks to the Saviors and should the offerings turn deadly… well, it was just best to be safe than sorry.

Paranoia was my greatest enemy those first few weeks.

Finally I realized the only way this stuff would be put to good use was if I brought it in myself.

I selected a few houses in need and distributed them as I saw fit.

The gifts hadn’t been well received, as it turned out. It created something of a panic at first. People believed there could have been a traitor that had managed to infiltrate the walls and was trying to kill us all. That was at least until I had chosen to test it all myself just to put everyone’s worries to rest.

It was easy for me to get away with it. One of the good things about being little is that no one expected me to know better, so I could get away with a touch more things than other people.

I had pretended to get up early that day (I was already up) and made breakfast using ingredients that had been “left on the doorstep”. Honey, raspberry tea, and some SPAM with wild mushrooms and eggs. It was a good breakfast; one that Vanessa had shown me how to cook while I was at her cottage. The smell wafted upstairs and woke everyone up. My dad came down first, hungry and curious who was cooking. He saw me eating at the counter, but when he recognized the food, he instantly overacted.

We went through the routine. He asked where I got the food and I told him someone left it on the doorstep, he worked himself into a panic, Michonne and Carl had to come down and once everyone eventually saw that I was not in fact dead they finally calmed down.

There were various opinions about the “elf”. Most people were skeptical but anyone brave enough to test the merchandise eventually caved due to hunger or curiosity.

No one ever died. And once they had worked past their suspicions about the food they began to test the medicinal products.

Vanessa taught me all about salves, creams, essential oils, soaps and lotions. All of which she instructed me to manufacture right in her little cottage. She had everything I needed in there and it soon became a godsend during times of need. Even long before she had died she had been stored up on a surplus of various creams and salves, not just that but she had an enormous storage cellar filled with enough supplies and food to feed one or two people for several years. Vanessa had no more need for it and allowed me to distribute it to my people as I required.

I learned all about gardening, hunting, gathering, fishing, plant identification and so on. I felt like I was a pupil of a magical school or the assistant to a magician sometimes. It was a delicious secret I could hold close to me during the darker times.

No one knew who the Elf might’ve been but everyone concluded that it had to be someone in town. The only questions was, who? And why were they staying quiet?

Enid was the only one who caught on… well the only one in town to at least, thinking back to my secret friend.

Enid was different than the others. She didn’t overlook me like everyone else did because I was too little or young. I think deep down we were a bit the same, that’s why she was able to find me out.

It was maybe a few months after my friend had left me for good. I no longer scaled the wall to escape the town but opted to go down the unused sewage tunnel leading out. I had taken the initiative and planted thick juniper bushes all around the gate and atop the hill so it was harder for outsiders to find. With those it was a bit more secure and no one kept much of an eye on it. Though I was a little worried about how frequently I traveled through it. Someday someone outside would catching me coming out of it and use it for their advantage to crush us. For the moment though, it was the only route available to me.

She had followed me all the way down and out. I hadn’t even noticed she was tailing me, till I heard her scream.

It had been sheer instinct that had propelled me forward towards her aid rather than panic to force me back. One of my people was in danger and I had to help.

I came around a bend and saw Enid pinned by a walker, its teeth gnashing hungrily at her neck as she struggled to throw it off her. Several more were on their way to toppling on her as well.

Without thought I rushed to her aid and began to yell at the top of my lungs.

“Get off her! Go away! Shoo! GET!”

The ones approaching seemed to think better of it and chose another direction and the one on top of her slowed its pursuit to get at her neck the closer I came. When Enid saw her chance she buried a knife into the rotting skull and it rolled away from her person letting her leap to her feet.

She switched between staring at me and back at the stray walkers hovering nearby, too stunned to say anything for a long, long time.

I grabbed her hand and led her away from them but she couldn’t dispel her shock.

“W-what did you do?” She exclaimed in disbelief.

“Nothing!” I said hastily. “I just scared them off you, that’s all.”

“Walkers don’t get scared, Judith!” She shouted. “What did you do? Why didn’t they come near us?”

“It—I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie! What do you have on you? Some kind of repellent or something?”

“No.”

She grabbed me just then, stopping us both, and she looked me in the eye, dead serious. “I’m not playing games, Judith! This is serious. You’ve been sneaking into the woods every chance you get and the only reason you haven’t died yet is because somehow you’ve got a secret that keeps them from coming near you! You tell me what it is, Judith Grimes! If it’s something that can help our people you have to tell us! You have to tell us right—”

“I DON’T KNOW WHY THEY DON’T COME NEAR ME!” I screamed. Enid stopped her rant and stared silently down at me. I couldn’t meet her gaze as I looked at the ground wearily. I was still getting over the wound of losing my friend and began to cry with the thought of it all. “I don’t know why, but they won’t. I’ve been trying to figure it out but I can’t. I don’t know why I’m this way.”

Enid wanted to tell the others, but I managed to convince her not to. For my sake she agreed. In return I showed her the island. She, along with everyone else knew I already saw things, like our dead loved ones at times, but this was entirely new to her.

There were times when I really wanted to share it with everyone, not just Enid; perhaps tell my dad about it and let him use it when he needed to get away for a while. But he was being watched too carefully by our enemy. My secret would be blown before I could finish saying, “Don’t tell anyone.” And the Saviors would come to ruin it.

Despite myself I was happy that I had someone to share this burden with. It had been so long since there was anyone living that I could trust. Not since John…

The entrance to the island was guarded by an enormous shrine for an ancient pagan god. He was bearded and had tall antlers sprouting from his head like naked branches. His chest was bare with a flowing shawl winding around his lower half and draping around his left outstretched arm. Vanessa called him Cernunnos; I called him Hades, mostly for the next part.

Behind his statue or shrine were dozens of other statues made to look like people. In the mist they looked creepy and foreboding, warding away any rational thinking person from entering their crowd. It looked like a herd of stagnant walkers and even if someone spotted the stone they were made from, it probably wouldn’t be enough to encourage them to enter. Enid sure didn’t want to enter the first time she saw them.

Walkers were tricky hiders, and tended to pop up at the most unexpected times. You didn’t want to be caught by one in this crowd.

Beyond the statues were the remnants of a stone bridge that once led over to an island in what used to be part of the Potomac River. No one knew it was there. Mist tended to rise from it, like a haunted dead cloud, creating even more reason for strangers to steer clear of it.

In the river were more statues of dead things rising out of it. I called this part of the river the Styx, so the statue of Hades would be easier to understand now. 

I no longer used the little boat that had guided me over long ago. Instead I took hold of a staff concealed to look like a simple bent flagpole, minus the flag, thrown down on the ground and appearing as nothing more important than regular garbage. I inserted it into a mechanism like fitting a key into a lock and pulled it back, activating the wheals as a drawbridge suddenly emerged straight up from the murky waters, connecting the banks and making it easier and faster to cross these days.

The ruins I had found the first day were all that was left of a long forgotten pagan church and the warmth that rose from it, creating the eerie mist all around, was due thanks to the hot springs that bubbled right out of it.

It was a godsend the whole place. Perfect almost. Walkers couldn’t come across thanks to the rapids of the river and everyone was put off immediately by the collective shrine and statues.

Enid fell in love with the island the very first time and decided to help me with my foraging for our family. The island was probably best left as a secret anyways. If too many people knew about it, there was a higher chance that the Saviors would eventually find out about it, too. It was a nice secret weapon, should the need ever arise to use it for a safe haven or a stowaway for contraband items that was sure to be confiscated by our enemies.

It was a good place.

Vanessa had mixed feeling about Enid but no longer had any power over who was let onto the land so she couldn’t really tell me no. Besides she was hardly any different from John, her old companion who used to visit her long ago. I had met him once before and he had stayed for a time, teaching me things beside Vanessa but he left and these days it hurt too much to think about him so I just tried to… not.

In the meantime I showed Enid all my favorite areas and she tried not to act too creeped out when I told her I was being tutored by a dead witch that was haunting the property. She seemed to take it all in rather well, but she was still concerned all the same.

I continued my lessons with Vanessa alone. Though understanding, Enid always made it a point to disappear whenever this happened. I think she found it a bit off-putting when she caught me speaking to an entity she could neither see nor hear. I wasn’t insulted by it though; a lot of people found it disconcerting, especially if they found out I’d just been speaking with someone they used to know in life.

As patient as Enid was, she never passed up an opportunity to tell me exactly how she felt about my secrets.

“This can’t last forever, Judith.” She told me as we tended the vast herb garden. “We have to tell someone about you.”

“Why?”

“Because it could help us. It could help so many people. If we could figure out why you’re this way then maybe…”

“No, it’ll just make everything worse.” I insisted. “The Saviors will find out, everyone will get in trouble, I’ll be taken away, Dad’ll try to stop them, more people will die…” I buried my face in my hands as if to shield myself from those thoughts. “I can’t do it. I’m already so scared of this. Yes there are good things about it, but there are so many other problems it brings up. And don’t tell me everyone will protect me because they can’t!”

Enid went quiet after that. There was nothing she could come up with to dispel the fears I had been realizing ever since I made this discovery about myself. So she stayed quiet and helped with whatever work I did to contribute to our people, whether it was gathering, hunting, fishing, or distributing the gifts we found in the forest among Alexandria as needed.

She was a good help and I was grateful for her friendship, but she really couldn’t replace my first friend and partner.

 _Don’t think about him_ , I told myself constantly, whenever my thoughts wondered to my strong and mysterious friend. _He chose to leave. Don’t think about it or it’ll hurt too much to bear_.

Once or twice she suggested telling Carl, at the least. I had considered this as well, many times, but I always decided against it somehow. I don’t know why, not really, but I told myself that he would probably tell Dad, and as much as I loved Dad, he would want to do everything to protect me rather than allowing me the freedom I needed to protect _our_ people.

I needed to protect our people. It was the only thing that gave me purpose.

I _needed_ to protect _our_ people.


	6. The Radio Host

** Chapter 6  
The Radio Host **

I sat with the rest of my family as we settled in to listen to the evening show tonight. I settled down on the floor binding together some new fishing lures while everyone else concentrated on their own individual projects. Spring was coming close and there was a good deal of planning and preparing we had to get ready for. We used evening to accomplish these things and it gave us the time to tune in to the only radio network that probably still ran in the country and maybe even the whole world.

Bianca Swan was a radio host that we had been listening to for the better part of six years. The first time we heard about her was a bit after the Battle for Alexandria. I somehow remember the day perfectly, probably because everyone recounted it so often.

The majority of people were cleaning up the mess of the walkers when everyone heard a hum off in the distance. We looked up to see a bright red plane coming straight for us. Panic flaring hot, everyone sprinted for the armory, but it was coming in fast and even if we had guns it wouldn’t have proven much use against a gunship. Thankfully it wasn’t diving to attack though. It circled the town trailing behind it a long banner that read

**Tune in to 96.2 AM radio network**

It circled three times and then left. The sight of the first plane anyone had seen in years had left a stir all around town that left mixed emotions of panic and excitement. Some people worried about it being a spy plane, figuring it would come back with an army to kill us whenever we saw it next. It had seen the whole of our town, our defenses the people, the broken fence, everything. Surely they were going to use that to their advantage at the first opportunity they had.

Others countered that we should listen to the banner it had. Its purpose hadn’t been to attack but to inform. There was little any of us could do other than listen to it, so we all sat around an old boom box and waited, listening to static.

It was hours before anything happened, and then at five promptly there was a voice that echoed out of the machine.

“Goooooooood evening, ladies and gentlemen! This is K96.2 coming to you live from East to West in the United States today. I’m your host Bianca Swan here with you this fine November 15th 2015 and it is a pleasure to be with you today. For brand new listeners tuning in for the first time welcome to the show, and for frequent listeners, welcome back.”

Dad didn’t know what to make of it. No one did. It was the voice of a stranger and strangers could rarely be trusted. Yet it still never stopped us from tuning in every day promptly at five.

Her show centered on life hacks, worst-case scenario situations, survival tips, and what to do in emergencies. There were also the guest speakers that frequently came on with her. A psychologist named Jordan Templeton occasionally came on to discuss what to expect when welcoming any survivors that groups took in, PTSD challenges, and other mental issues concerning people who have been through the ringer of horrendous conditions brought on by the outbreak. A farmer named Orville Forseth came on to share different tricks and techniques for growing more productive crops and livestock. Nancy Adams was a doctor and survival expert that frequently discussed methods to treat wounds and discuss walker escape tricks.

I loved listening to her show. There was music, and sometimes an audio book that she played, stories that guest speakers shared…

It felt like we weren’t alone.

She gave no hints about where she might be located, but people assumed she had to be near an airport or military base at the least. At first her airplanes—or birds as we liked to call them—were only seen about once a year but as time progressed it looked like they gradually worked up to biannual checkups on us. It was a huge deal whenever we saw them in the sky. Everyone would drop whatever they were doing to shield their eyes and look to the heavens, like looking upon angels as they watched over us.

I remember being so little and jumping up and down to wave up at them eagerly, hoping and dreaming for them to land and talk to us.

But they never did.

No one knew why that was. Dad was afraid they were for spying on defenses and in time they would probably use those planes against us, but eventually years passed and they never so much as did a barrel-roll in greeting or acknowledgement.

So we continued to tune in, listening to the voice speaking out over miles and miles from wherever her base was located. For all anyone knew she could have been as near or far as thirty to a thousand miles away.

I grew up listening to those comforting unseen voices, drinking in everything that they told me and taking every show to heart. I still remember the most exciting show she ever hosted; Eugene had even had the foresight to copy it on an old recorder and allowed me to borrow it every once in a while. It was one of the most heartwarming things I had ever listened to in my whole life.

Around a year after we’d all been listening to the broadcasts Bianca was interrupted by an unexpected radio guest.

She’d just been in the process of listing the occasional importance of the day with memories of past when static began to interrupt the frequency just then.

Carl smacked the boom box impatiently, figuring it was coming from our end. But the voice of Bianca contradicted that assumption a moment later.

“Ladies and gentlemen there appears—shhh—some—shhh—terferance with—shh—I’m going to try to—shhh—,”

And then an unfamiliar male voice, offset with static echoed from out of it.

“Huston… Huston is that you?”

There was a moment of silence that ran through the entire mess hall.

“Hello?” Bianca called over the radio waves hesitantly. “Who is this?”

“Who is this?” The stranger asked back curiously.

“You’re on air with Bianca Swan on K96.2. Who is this?”

There was more static and a long momentary pause. “This is Sergeant Lee Miles of the US Military calling from the International Space Station.”

There were echoing words of shock and confusion all throughout the mess hall. Every single person in the entire building was listening attentively now.

“The International Space Station?” Bianca repeated in shock. “You’re transmitting from the International Space Station right now?”

“That is correct, Ma’am.”

“How did you survive for so long?”

“It’s a long story.”

“The collapse of DC and NASA headquarters went down over four—,”

“Over four years ago,” The man said wearily. “Or if you want to be really specific, four years, ten months, three weeks, two days, eight hours and fourteen minutes since our last and final transmission with Houston.”

“Sergeant, I’m… I’m…”

“Listen… Brianna was it?”

“Bianca.”

“Bianca, what I’d really like to know is, and pardon my French but we’ve been orbiting around the same goddamned blue sphere for five and a half years so try and bear with me, but what the fuck is going on down there?”

I could feel the weight in the air get tense as everyone listened in on the broadcasted conversation.

“Language please, this is a family station. Sergeant, have you not had any contact with Earth this entire time?”

“We had a brief conversation with a Japanese computer network about four years ago, but since then… nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“Who’s there with you now?”

“A Pilot Engineer from Russia, Alek Popov, and a young Military Medic from China named Kimiku Zula.”

They talked for hours it seemed. Most of their lingo I couldn’t quite keep up with, but the gist of it was the astronauts were beginning to run out of food and oxygen. Their supplies on the ISS was said to last for years and years but it seemed as though the station had recently undergone some serious damage from a meteor shower and a good percent of the facility had been entirely destroyed. They’d been broadcasting a frequency to all radio frequencies, hoping and praying for months that someone would hear them.

Finally, finally they heard Bianca.

They swapped their stories over the frequency, Bianca doing her duty to fill in what had happened since communications between the astronauts and Houston was severed. It was a heavy blow for all of them, but once they were able to move passed the shock, a plan was formed to figure out a way for the astronauts to land safely.

It was a difficult thing to decide. The state of the world at the moment guaranteed that wherever they landed would most likely be swarming with the dead or devoid of all life for miles and miles around.

Even despite that the three were out of time. Another meteor shower was on the way and they needed to move now.

Everyone leaned closer towards the radio, trying to hear over the static as chaos ensued.

“We’re boarding into the pod now—shhhhh—meteor shower has hit! We’ve lost engines—shhhhhh—in jeopardy—shhhh—MAYDAY, MAYDAY! WE ARE GOING DOWN!”

There was silence just then and the shaky desperate voice of Bianca cried out after them.

“Sergeant?” Bianca repeated back in terror. “Sergeant, are you still there?”

More static followed, before the voice of Sergeant Miles resonated back, offset and shaky with the loud string of static and system interference. “Mrs. Swan, is this being broadcasted on all frequencies on Earth?”

“As many as we can reach.” She confirmed.

“Do you record?”

“We’re recording right now.”

“We… we have some messages we would like to say.”

“Sergeant..?”

“Mrs. Swan,” A new voice came through, and judging by the tone and the accent it was assumed that it was the other man, Alek Popkov. “I have message… for my daughter. She is from Samara Russia, her name is Tanya. Tanya Popkov. If she is still alive, please give her message.”

“Alright, we’re recording it whenever you’re ready.”

He began to talk just then in a language I couldn’t understand, quickly and shakily. From the tone in his voice I could only assume it was heartfelt and meaningful. My heart went out for him and as much as I wished I could understand those words I knew they weren’t for me.

The same went for Kimiko. When it was her turn, she was certain to disclose who the message was for just as Alek had.

“This will go to my grandmamma in Lanzhou China. Her name is Yang Lei Zula. She is seventy-five.”

“Alright we’re recording Kimiku.”

Like Alek she too recorded her message in her native language and like the first it was heartfelt yet brief.

When it came to Lee’s turn there was an uncomfortable banging that interrupted him.

“Sergeant?”

“I’m here.” He said, in a clearly shaken voice. “We’re… we’re all still here.”

“Did you need to say something?”

“Y-yes. This is for Ophelia, Teller, Draco, and Penny Miles in Winchester, Virginia USA.”

“Go ahead.”

“P-Penny… if you’re listening now… well it looks like I owe you that thing we were talking about. I know I said I wouldn’t do it, but after careful consideration… I’m pretty sure it’s not the worst thing I could do in this world—or out of this world. Teller, please don’t hate me. I know you were mad that I left and I can’t blame you. I kind of hate me, too. You’re the man of things while I’m gone, alright? Draco, you’re going to do something incredible. I know you will. Ophelia… I never got to meet you, but if you’re with your brothers and mother right now… I hope you know that I look forward to seeing you at last, in whatever life comes next. I love you all and—”

There was a deafening bang just then and there was a short resonating scream from all the astronauts…

And then everything was quiet.

“Sergeant Miles? Zula? Popkov? Hello? Sergeant!” There was only static that answered her. “Come in! Come in!” After a moment she seemed to remember she was still being broadcasted on air and snapped back to her audience fretfully. “Um… ladies and gentlemen it seems we’re experiencing some technical difficulties. Please enjoy this poem read by the famous Anthony Hopkins while we continue to try and reestablish communication with the astronauts.”

The feed was cut as a somber tune drifted out from the speakers.

_Do not go gentle into that goodnight_  
Old age should burn and rave a close of day;  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light

_Though wise men at their end know dark is right_  
Because their words had forked no lightning they  
Do not go gentle into that good night

_Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright_  
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light

_Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight_  
And learned, too late, they grieved it on its way,  
Do not go gentle into that good night

_Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight_  
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light

_And you, my father, there on the sad height,_  
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray,  
Do not go gentle into that good night

_Rage, rage against the dying of the light”_

We listened to the voice and the dark poem, our hopes dwindling as it read on with the sad music playing behind it, ringing the tune of the astronauts’ doom. And even as the last verse was said Bianca’s voice did not return and so more music was played to fill the gap of silence. A low steady tune of a violin and a choir came on and we waited, listening to the song.

_You taught me the courage of stars before you left  
How light carries on endlessly, even after death_

_With shortness of breath, you explain the infinite  
How rare and beautiful it is to even exist_

_I couldn’t help but ask f_  
or you to say it all again  
I tried to write it down  
But I could never find a pen

_I’d give anything to hear_  
you say it one more time,  
that the universe was made  
just to be seen by my eyes

_I couldn’t help but ask_  
for you to say it all again  
I tried to write it down  
But I could never find a pen

_I’d give anything to hear_  
you say it one more time,  
that the universe was made  
just to be seen by my eyes

_With shortness of breath I’ll explain the infinite  
How rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist_

I felt the sting of terrified tears as the somber voice of Bianca came back on, choked with her own tears after the poem. “Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform you that I can give you no news on the condition of the astronauts … because someone else would like to do it for me.”

There was static and we all held our breaths, then the voice of Sergeant Miles broke through all sound. “Hello beautiful.”

There was a simultaneous cheer through the whole room. People laughed and cried through sobs of happiness, relieved and joyous to hear this tremendous spark of hope. I had never seen them so happy and relieved by anything in my life. I myself felt touched on a near spiritual level to hear the miracle of the astronaut’s voices.

 “Is anyone hurt?”

“We’ve sustained a few injuries, but I think we’ll be walking away from this with some minor bumps and bruises at best, and one hell of a story.”

“That’s an enormous relief, Sergeant. Can you tell us where you are right now?”

“We’re triangulating our position as we speak, but I did recognize the Grand Canyon we were passing during the landing. And I think we’ve just found out what you were talking about with those dead bodies. Those things are fucking scary—pardon my French.”

Bianca stifled a chuckle as her tone grew immediately serious. “If you’re anywhere near shelter I suggest you move now. They’re much more active at night and it’ll be dark in a few hours. They tend to gather in hordes so watch out. Thankfully they're very clumsy so if you get the opportunity to trip one up don't waste it. They're attracted to sound, light and movement. There are several tactics you can use to divert them. You can use their own blood or fluids as camouflage, if you smell like them they won't attack you just as long as you don't draw attention to yourself. When disarming them be sure to puncture the brain. It’s the only way to kill them. And if you're bitten... if it's on a limb the only known treatment is amputation anywhere else... and you have a day at the most.”

“We’ll keep that in mind. This could be the last time you hear from us, Mrs. Swan.” He said heavily.

“I understand. I’ll pray for you all, Sergeant. Good Luck.”

“Thank you.”

Bianca turned her attention back to her audience. “I am broadcasting to all available radio frequencies. Anyone who happens to meet these people I implore you, please help them. If not out of decency then do so for your own gain. They are doctors, engineers, scientists, and pilots. Their skills are invaluable and they will contribute greatly to your people.” With those final words the show closed and we were left to wonder what was in store for the astronauts.

I begged my father to let us go and find them, but after crunching some numbers we realized they were three thousand miles away. Even so, having no real concept of distance I begged and begged till I finally understood that they were just too far.

We had heard little news regarding the astronauts since that day, so it was anyone’s guess whether they were still alive or not.

That broadcast had been over six years ago, but I remember it vaguely. No other evening show had been as exciting as that one. Occasionally Bianca would have a new guest speaker, sometimes she would dedicate an evening broadcast to a fallen friend or ally, but other than that they’d been relatively the same since.

First she started off by greeting the audience, inspiring them with whatever pep-talk or words of wisdom she had prepared that day, and then she went on to list of the importance of the day’s date, whether it was a special holiday, a famous person’s birthday, if a certain movie had been released in theaters on the day or if it merely bore some kind of significance to someone out there just in general.

Next she went on by honoring those that were no longer with us, should there have been a tragedy anywhere around the world recently, she was certain to extend her condolences as well as a moment of silence in respect towards their memory.

Next depending on what sort of day it was she would play music for a bit. She was conscious that not everyone was a fan of every variety of music so depending on what sort of day it was she would designate it towards a specific genre, pausing between songs to speak with guest speakers and so-called “experts” or “professionals”.

I enjoyed a bit of everything though I definitely had my preferences just as everyone else did.

Occasionally she would dedicate the evening to a writer and would play an audio book in honor of their work.

Today was such an occasion and we were all greeted with the intro to the Death of a Salesman.

I groaned inwardly, annoyed by the boring classic and settled in for a dull program tonight. It was going to be hard to stay awake tonight, especially since I had intentions to meet with Vanessa later once everyone was asleep.

Actually this might’ve worked in my favor as I was able to excuse myself with no suspicion, claiming I had no interest in the particular story and would just read what I wanted to in my room till bedtime. It worked like a charm, and I kept myself active until the sun went down and the rest of my family were tucked away into their own rooms.

* * *

 

**Author's Notes: I forgot to mention from Chapter 6 The Radio Host, that the two songs that Bianca played when waiting to hear back from the crashed astronauts was "Rage" written by Dylan Thomas and read by Anthony Hopkins. I thought the Interstellar soundtrack would be appropriate and would add to the suspense. The second is "Saturn" by Sleeping at Last. It has a quiet somber tune that seems, in a way, extremely hopeful and sad at the same time, like a ballad for a fallen hero who lived a beautiful life but died tragically. If you listen to it close enough it's a song that almost brings tears to your eyes from either joy or sorrow or maybe both.**

**If you guys have any particular thoughts or comments I would love to read your reviews.**

**Also I wanted to start some drabbles for this story. It would be a separate piece of writing from this initial story but centered around Judith since she's my main character in all this. Just small scenes or oneshots to kind of expand this story a little. If anyone has any suggestions or scenes they would be interested in reading I'd be interested in hearing your thoughts and I could see how they would work.**


	7. Hey there Little Red Riding Hood

**Chapter 7**  
**Hey there Little Red Riding Hood**

I sauntered through the forest with the moon high on my shoulder. Vanessa’s lesson would take place under the goddess tonight to demonstrate the effects of spells under the moon as well to charge water. There were so many things I learned in those first few years, but there always seemed to be more and more to learn.

I had snuck out the moment I knew my father was asleep and arranged my bedding in a way that looked like there was a body under it all. Hopefully that would convince anyone that came to check on me and would buy me a few hours at least.

It was hard to say if it was my imagination, but moon water somehow tasted different to me; softer somehow. Vanessa had instructed me on the effects and purposes of moon water before and it wasn’t the first time we would charge it, but tonight was special. Tonight was a blue moon; its powers had a stronger affect.

Spring water was always the best to use in this type of situation and thankfully the island was built atop a glorious one that bubbled it out, crystal clear. The old temple had been built on it specifically for that reason. Back then spring water was considered sacred and pure. Their leaders often performed blessings with it and any healing remedy used by the water had certain amplified properties.

I’m not totally sure if the same properties still existed now, not after the KKK burned down the temple and drove most of the followers out of the area a hundred and fifty years ago. I knew violence sometimes had a way of tainting things, and it may have been that the magic wasn’t the same as it once was. Still, the allure of actual spring water was not entirely lost and I already knew it tasted better than our average tap at home.

The water was gathered in a huge glass jar with a spigot and charged atop the ridge of the rocks on the far east side of the island where there were no overhanging walls or tree branches and nothing to obstruct the rays of the moon. It wasn’t just water we would be charging though. Vanessa instructed me to get the crystals from the house to lay around the ground as well.

“It’s a fine night for magic.” Vanessa announced, staring up into the sky at the glimmering moon. Her outline looked much more illuminated and ghostly than usual and the fireflies flitted around like tiny stars. Indeed it was a magical night.

I stared up from my spot on the stone at the flickering bodies of light and sighed. It was times like these that just made me forget about everything. All the horrible awful things didn’t seem to really exist and I was able to lose myself in the ambience.

“It’s so beautiful,” I announced.

“These stones and water will work nicely in the new spells you’ll learn.” Vanessa said, crouching down. “But there are other ways to charge stones; Name them.”

“With the sun?”

“You can, but how?”

“Find a safe place and leave it for a day like with the moon.”

“Very good, but the sun’s rays are harsh and cause some stones’ colors to fade. Can you name a few?”

“Amethyst, celestine, opal and… turquoise?”

“Correct. Kunzite is one more that will fade in the sun. Because of that, we charge them instead with the moon for its gentler and purer light.”

The lesson lasted for well over an hour and by the time I was allowed to go home I was yawning wide and practically sleepwalking. Perhaps I should have used the time I spent reading in my room to catch a quick nap before running off into the woods for my lesson. I’d keep that in mind for next time at least.

Hopefully I wouldn’t fall asleep on the path and get myself lost before making it back home. Before leaving I grabbed some supplies from the house, thinking I could at least make some deliveries around town before I curled into bed for the rest of the night. I knew Michonne needed some more toothpaste and Mrs. Emming had run out of honey. There were also some various soaps I thought I could drop off and Eric and Aaron’s house before I called it a night.

Walking down the path I focused on keeping my eyes opened. It must have been well past midnight when something brought me to full alertness.

My ears perked and I heard scuffling just then. I at first dismissed it as a pair of walkers but immediately realized there were voices to go with it. Curiosity taking hold, I moved closer, dipping behind a bush as I examined the scene.

My eyes narrowed as I focused on the sight. The rest of my tiredness dissolved to anxiety as I took it all in. With an awful feeling I realized I knew these people.

Saviors.

And wonder of all Negan was with them. The slingshot at my belt itched horribly and I wanted dearly to use it but there were far too many of them to chance such a thing; sixteen of them at the very least. And I couldn’t be sure it’d kill him rather than just piss him off enough to kill _me_ instead.

Their quarry was a man in the middle of the clearing. They all surrounded him while each took turns hitting whatever part of him they could. I knew the man as one who had raided our town a few years back. I was curious to know what he’d done to get on their bad side, but it looked like the gist of Negan’s usual spiel was over.

Just then there was a snap behind me and before I had time to turn a hand slapped over my mouth and an arm was around my waist, hoisting me right off my feet. I immediately began to thrash. I screamed against the hand held over me, my nails dug deep into flesh and my legs flailed out, furious to work free of the ape that ensnared me.

I heard a grunt of pain and then a shout right after I bit him hard on the hand. He dragged me forward despite my struggles and it was only after I slashed hard across his forearm that his grip released and he rather kicked me in the center where the group of people stopped their beating to see this newcomer. I hit hard on my side, my sweater ripping at the elbow as I landed.

“Cunt!” I shouted at the brute impulsively.

“The hell you just call me, you little motherfucker?!” The man looked like he was ready to hit me while he held his bleeding arm. “Fuck, that little shit bit me! Little fuckwad sliced me right across my forearm, too. I’ll kill her.”

“Tyler, we don’t beat on kids. Jesus, what’s wrong with you?!” The man held his forearm, doing his best to staunch the blood flow but from the look he gave me I could tell he was ready to draw some of my own blood in retaliation. “This is what you get for not wearing armguards like I told you to. Kendra, help patch him up.”

Then he turned down to look at me. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Negan hummed, like some clichéd comic book villain. I wondered if he enjoyed the idea of it, which might’ve been how he played the act so well.

“Found her hiding over by that bush!” The man who’d grabbed me—or Tyler—announced.

“No kidding.” He smiled down at me and I had to suppress a shiver, gripping my knife tighter now. “Hey there Little Red Riding Hood.” He said in a singsong tone. I hated the association, mostly because it had actually popped into my head the moment I was dragged into the circle. Negan definitely reminded me of a vicious wolf and it would have been an almost creepy concurrence, but my hood and cloak were green not red, so I wasn’t sure how well the comparison worked in this situation.

“Uh my hood is _green_ , thank you very much.” I said pointing out what everyone already knew while I got to my feet. My body instinctively stepped into a defensive stance brandishing my knife carefully the way I remember being taught. If Negan tried to kill me I wasn’t going down without drawing more of their blood.

This seemed to please him. I didn’t cry or tremble or even look scared. I was angry and prepared and Negan seemed to find this incredibly impressive.

The light caught my glare as I looked up at him and the man had a proper look at my face. I knew from his expression that he recognized me, but couldn’t quite remember from where. Amusedly, he pointed his bloody bat at me. “I’ve seen you before. I’m sure I have.” He tapped his chin in thought. “Gosh darn, I am having the hardest time placing you. No, no. Don’t tell me. I know this.”

He debated for another long minute before snapping suddenly. “I know now! You’re Rick’s daughter. I’m sure of it. It’s been a while since I saw you last. You’ve gotten big, Sweetheart. What was your name again? Jane… or Julie something?”

I stayed quiet. He couldn’t have my name. I wouldn’t give it to him.

“Not talking, huh?” He looked behind to one of his men. “What she got in the bag, Rob?”

With that someone grabbed my canvas bag and yanked it off of me. Thankfully he hadn’t noticed the small trinket pouch I hid under my cloak as he riffled through it.

“Rob huh?” I said sarcastically. “That’s appropriate.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” Negan laughed.

“Let’s see. We got a compass, three jars of honey, a pouch of… tea I think, towel, first aid kit, some soaps, something white in a jar… smells like toothpaste, a weird… stick thing, box of dried herbs and… Ewe!”

“What?”

“Box of bugs.”

Negan looked down at me. “Those are some… unusual items. Pretty heavy too, for someone your size. Not exactly what you would pack for a trip in these woods.” He tilted his head as he looked me up and down in consideration. “So what might a little girl like you be doing out here at night, alone, with no one around?” He grinned that shark-like smile, showing off his perfect set of white teeth. “Does your father know you’re out here all by yourself?”

“Why? Are you going to run off and rat on me to him?” I challenged, defensive and angrily calling the bluff.

His bark of laughter split all other sound in the clearing.

“No. I’m not one to report someone to the authorities over something so menial as that. I’m just a little concerned, is all. Little girl out here alone,” the light glinted on the metal of the barbed wire on his bat as he eyed me, “never know what you might find, _who_ you might meet out here.”

“Don’t concern yourself.” I spat. “Do you think I’d be out here alone if I wasn’t entirely sure I could handle it?”

He hummed. “Hmm. Well I guess not, though it honestly breaks my heart to see little kids like that working to be so grown up too soon.”

I looked him in the eye, hatred flaring hot in me. “Well sometimes we have to grow up a little sooner than we want to. Childhood is a luxury these days, and well, we don’t really have any luxuries left.” I gave him an accusing look, refused to swallow his crap, but I wasn’t done there. “And ‘side’s which, I don’t think we need to ask what _I’m_ doing out here. This is Alexandria’s land and as a citizen I can walk it any damn night I want to. I think the real question is why are _you_ so close to Alexandria this time of night. We already gave you your offering, which is always more than you say you’ll take. Why are you lurking in our back yard? Afraid we’re going to sneak away in the middle of the night so it leaves you with fewer towns to bully and raid? Yeah I can see why that would make you a little afraid. Then you’d have to fend for yourself, and I recon you’re probably not very good at that.”

His grin looked a little forced as he chewed his lip in consideration. Then he stepped up to me so close that he towered right over my head like a mountain. He was taller than my dad, but I only craned my neck up, keeping my hated glare fixed on his gaze and refusing to back down or even step back.

He wouldn’t intimidate me!

“I’ll let that one slide, sugar.” He said so softly it was just barely a whisper. “You obviously haven’t learned anything from your guardians or from your daddy. They must not be very good teachers if you haven’t managed to get the message by now. He ever tell you about what happened the day that Chinese fellow and that ginger died?”

“Glenn was Korean!” I snapped at him, furious by his blatant ignorance. “Even _I_ know the difference, you ignorant, uneducated, self-assured ass-butt!”

There was a low echoing “Ooh…” that pulsed through the circle and most held their breath to see how their conquering hero would respond to such an insult.

What he did instead was laugh loudly. “Ass-butt? Seriously? Okay points for creativity. And I see that he did not tell you what happened.”

“He didn’t but I know anyways.” I shrugged pointing towards his ugly bat. “You ambushed them and because you knew you weren’t _man_ enough to beat him in a one on one fight you held everyone hostage so you could satisfy your own twisted bloodlust to freely pulverize my friends. That’s what happened. And _I’ll_ give _you_ points for being at least smart enough to _know_ you couldn’t take him.”

There was another conjoined low “ooh,” throughout the clearing.

Negan no longer looked amused.

“Well I guess that’s the abridged version, but why don’t I tell you about the extended edition.” He said darkly. I stood my ground glaring up at him in challenge, ready for whatever he did next. He only talked more.

“After Lucile here got done drinking up some of that fine young man, your daddy went off and told me he’d kill me someday, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but he’d do it someday. Well I couldn’t let him say things like that to me. So then I took him aside and he and I got mighty familiar with one another. Meanwhile my team took the opportunity to educate your dad’s friends—the ones that were still _alive_ at least. And when morning rolled around I could tell he still didn’t quite get the message so, I called your brother over and I’d let him take it from his son. Really I was pretty fucking impressed with that kid. I drew a line over his arm and told your dad to take his hatchet and chop that sucker off. If he didn’t, I’d go down the line and pick each and every one of those bastards off.

“You should have seen how much your father sobbed.” He laughed. My heart beat furiously in my throat, my blood boiled, and I could hear a near deafening ringing in my ears as his words painted a picture of that day. I could see the desperation in my father, the terror in everyone else and the stubborn rebellious gleam in my brother’s eye. Negan went on and his voice made me so mad it took all of my self-restraint not to take my knife and stab him in the groin.

“That kid had more balls than your dad did. Carl lied out there right in the dirt and was going to take it like a man, clenched teeth and dry eyes the whole way. I thought your dad would die with how much he begged me not to make him do it, but with a bit more coaxing he was ready and prepared to do exactly as I said. But I saw then that he finally got the message so I figured there was no need for that. Poor kid already lost an eye; didn’t think there was any call to turn him more crippled.”

“If you still haven’t learned by now I can go into more graphic details, or I could give you a demonstration right now. So unless you want to find out with a first-hand experience about what it’s like to be made someone’s bitch I suggest you STOP TRYING TO STARE ME DOWN!” His voice had steadily risen till it was a shout, making my body flinch in shock.

My heartbeat spiked immediately and I heard it pound in my ears, whether from fear, anger, hatred or all three, and I reluctantly dropped my gaze, taking a cautious step back for added measure.

Then his mood turned around so suddenly it was distinctly unnerving. “You know maybe you can help us with something.” And he grabbed my arm just then and dragged me forward towards the man in the center of the ring.

“We were all about to teach Roger a similar lesson right here. All of us were just debating on whether we would beat this traitorous pig to death right here, but now that you’ve shown up I think I have a better idea.” Then he turned to the man called Roger. “You hear that? You might cut yourself a break, Roger. Maybe if this girl is caring enough she may just save your life.”

This time _I_ scoffed. “Why would you assume I would care about a person I know nothing about?”

He staggered and his grin widened. “DAMN! That. Is. Cold! How old are ya’ kid?”

I didn’t want to tell him, but I couldn’t think of a witty enough reply to avoid it so I just answered. “Ten… in five days.”

“Wow. Well happy birthday, then. Double digits, that’s gotta be exciting for ya. Tell you what, in honor of your birthday I’ll give you a present. Since providence sent you to us, I’m going to give you the rare opportunity to decide for us what we should do with this guy.”

I stared, stunned entirely. Was he serious? I looked at the man and my memory of him clicked. A wash of unbridled power and fury fell over me just then. Negan had just given me a rare opportunity to execute a miniscule bit of justice for what had been done to us. A cold expression took over my features as the man looked at me with hope.

He disgusted me, but I played the part anyways. “I think that depends on who he is and what he did.”

“Well it just so happens that Roger here—,”

I cut him off sharply. “Let him explain it. I’d like to hear the story he’s come up with first.”

Negan’s brows went up in surprise, undecided if he would get angry or not, but then decided to shut his yap for once. Everyone’s eyes turned to the one on the ground. “I-it wasn’t a big deal. She said yes you see and…”

“Stop.” I cut him off with my hand, disinterested in whatever his excuse was even before he had a chance to start. “I’m not talking about _that_. I don’t care about _that_. Let _me_ tell you what you did.” There was silence and confusion and I looked at the man without mercy. “You stole all our medicine. You said half our medicine and you took it all. Thanks to that, my friend had a bad fall in the following weeks and broke her leg. She developed a blood clot and a fever and we had no antibiotics to treat that fever with. Now I have to pass her grave every day reminded of why that is. **_That’s_** the only story I’m interested in.”

A long stunned silence followed before Negan talked— _again_.

“Ooh.” Negan said, swinging his barbed wire bat lazily. “Well damn. Is that true, Roger. Did you really take all their medicine?”

He looked terrified and defeated. “…I …Yes.”

Negan whistled low. “Yikes. I guess providence wasn’t too kind after all.” He turned to me, grin still on his face. “Well what would you like to do with him, birthday girl?”

He was expecting I would turn away; that I would show mercy because I was a child. He was wrong. Instead I imagined it was him, Negan, I was sentencing. What did I want to happen to Negan? The man who broke my father, the man who killed Abraham and Glenn and haunted him still? The man who drove Maggie into hiding to protect herself from him? The man that took nearly everything we had including our hope and dignity and kept demanding more, and more, and more?

What did I want to do to him?

“Find a large herd, strip him as he stripped us, and toss him in. Let _providence_ do the rest after that.”

The man’s eyes went wide and he turned chalk white in the moonlight.

“Whoa,” Negan said, looking torn between shocked and impressed. “I was just going to let everyone beat you to death. I thought a bullet to the brain would be the worst the kid came up with, but damn…”

Roger looked completely panicked. “No. No! Please Negan! Not that! Anything but that!”

“Sorry sport.” Negan said, shrugging with an enormous grin on his face. “The judge has spoken.” He waved and the men loaded him in the truck.

Silently, I backed away, slipping into the forest while everyone’s attention was turned to the panicking, thrashing man. It was good he created such a commotion, I needed a fair distraction for my escape and in the cover of the forest I heard Negan jump when he realized I had vanished.

“I suppose you’ll want to wa—what the! The hell did she go? You guys see where she went?”

“She just pulled a Batman on you.” Someone else piped up.

“Well go find her!” He ordered to a few surrounding men, but I was already sprinting away.

It peeved me that I had to leave my bag, but it didn’t matter. I considered my life more important than some jars of honey and dried flowers. I could replace everything in there, though it did irritate me that I lost the beetles I’d been gathering for five months and my dowsing rod, but not even those were worth more than my life.

It was a good thing I knew the forest well, even in the darkness. It was even better that the loud groans and moans of an approaching herd of walkers would mask whatever sounds I made as I escaped and take care of the ones that were pursuing me. Maybe the beasts wouldn’t kill them but they would at least let me lose them.

They might’ve known where Alexandria was, but I didn’t want to be looking over my shoulder for them as I went back.

I decided not to use the sewage tunnel, believing the secret may be compromised were I to get in that way. The wall was safe as I crossed over and the spikes lining the perimeter were clean, but I still looked back, waiting in the darkness to see if I could spy any stalkers on the path.

I saw none, but it didn’t diminish the looming feeling of pursuit on my back as I turned to climb the wall, hopping on the hood of one of the surrounding cars and scaling up, rolling down the grassy hill that braced against the iron. Even with the plates between me and the threats, it didn’t feel quite safe. It never felt safe.

I climbed the tree outside of my bedroom and slipped through the window. The house was silent while I pulled on my pajamas, still in the dark, and crawled onto my sleeping mat on the floor. The brand new wool-stuffed mattress felt good and soft and I was tired. But I continued to lie awake long into the night, thinking over and over about my encounter with Negan.

His perfect white smile stayed in my head even when I shut my eyes. How possible was it to feel so much hatred for one person? I felt the hate may have chewed me up starting first in my chest and more and more till there was nothing left of me.

I closed my eyes but it was hours before I finally fell asleep.

* * *

_I was naked from head to foot. Hands were on me and I could hear the growls of my worst nightmares on the other side of the doors. The van stopped suddenly and I tipped to the side with the momentum. Just then the doors were thrown wide opened and hands were pushing me out. My arms remained bound as I was tossed into the green and gray crowd. Teeth tore into my body. Nails raked against my skin. My mouth opened and a gurgling spout of red shot from my throat._

My body reacted and I jolted suddenly. A fighting animalistic scream burst from my mouth as I shot straight up. I swatted and kicked, forgetting where I was as I stared around myself in horror. A cold sweat pooled at the back of my neck and forehead and I fought for breath.

Banging sounded somewhere outside and I looked up to watch my father burst inside the room.

“Judith!” He cried, looking crazed and terrified but still ready for a fight all the same. An army knife was in his hand and he brandished it threateningly. “What is it? What happened?”

I swallowed, gaining control of myself as I slowly began to realize what was happening. “Nothing.” I announced. “Nothing. Just a bad dream.” My hand went to my heart and I felt it pounding against my ribs like a base drum.

There was a loud sigh of relief as my father knelt and put his hand on my shoulder. I looked at him with watery eyes, before falling into his arms and crying right against him. He held me as I stayed there, wrapped up and warm, letting me calm down a bit before speaking.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“N-no.” I answered immediately, sniffing and sobbing. It felt nice to just be there, to have him hold me. Tenderly he began to stroke back my hair, the same way he used to before everything became a giant mess. How long had it been since I was held like this by him?

It felt like eternity.

He kept holding me straight till I calmed down. Finally there was silence as I sniffed myself back to composure. My thoughts turned to my dream, still lingering over me like a ghostly fog. I knew what had happened. Roger was dead, executed in the exact way I had sentenced him to. But in it, it had felt like I was the one being torn apart. Was that my punishment for what I had done? Would Roger haunt me now?

I cringed in terror, but tried to convince myself not to jump to the worst. But why shouldn’t I? I had just sentenced a man to a fate worse than death. I was a horrible person. I was damned for such a monstrous crime.

Then I was distracted by my father’s embrace on me. I thought of why I did it in the first place. I thought of my anger and hatred for what had been done to our family and people, and all the things I would do for them when given the choice.

“Y—you know there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, right Dad?” I said softly. I felt his arms stiffen as I said those words. “I… I just want you to be okay. I want everyone to be okay. And I want to take care of them and keep them safe.”

He was so stunned by my unexpected words that he didn’t say anything for a moment. “No, y-you’re not supposed to be taking care of anyone, Judith.” Dad announced holding me tighter. “That’s our job. You’re… you’re so young to be thinking like that.”

“Then when _will_ I be old enough to think like that?”

He didn’t answer so instead he enforced his hold till the sun came up and it was time to start the day.

* * *

**Author's Notes: It's so late right now, but I wanted to get this particular chapter posted before I turned in. I'm so tired.**


	8. Mary Had a Little Ram

** Chapter 8   
Mary had a Little Ram  **

It felt good to walk in the forest. It was the only place I actually felt safe. Negan was in our town today and I never wanted to see him again if I could help it. I always made it a point to disappear on days he showed up. No one discouraged it even if I had school, though he tended to arrive by the time we were let out. As much as I hated him there was a small bright side to his visits. I could stay out as late as I wanted and no one would come looking for me. My father especially didn’t want me anywhere within sight of that asshole, though I’m not sure if he would approve of me being outside of the fence more or less.

My thoughts wandered to our encounter in the forest a week ago and I wondered if he would say anything about it. He had said he wouldn’t but I doubted he would keep his word; he rarely did. I suspected if he wasn’t going to say anything about that in particular he’d at least ask where I was. With a sinking feeling I believed I had unintentionally caught his interest now.

The idea sent shivers up my spine and made my heart pound in anxiety, so I tried to distract myself with other thoughts.

He would take more things today and I’d compensate by bringing something new back. Maybe it wouldn’t be as much as he took away but it would be something. I could go to the honey tree and bring back more jars, since he took the three I was planning to give to a few people who would appreciate them, I could check the snares, or I could go to the river and fish for a while. I was good at fishing. Large fish we could eat; small fish we could use as fertilizer but I wasn’t all that sure I was up for fishing right now.

I decided to go to the island instead. Having a body of water between me and everything else felt infinitely safer. I loved the island; the one roomed witch’s cottage complete with an actual cauldron, mystical spinning wheel, spell ingredients, the magical garden, and the attic filled with treasures and artifacts of the past. It was like something out of a fairy tale; my own secret place that was guarded by magic and an enchanted forest, full of dangerous beasts that would allow only me to pass through.

Yeah… sometimes I really did feel like I was in a fairy tale. Maybe hundreds of years from now people would tell it like some kind of bedtime story to their children. I wasn’t sure how it was bound to be told. I guess the story had yet to be written.

I got lost in thought while I followed the path towards the island, when suddenly something knocked me off my feet.

I face planted in the dirt just then and my butt suddenly recognized the sensation left on it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I yelled as I crawled up to my feet.

Just as I predicted there was the culprit responsible for sending me to the ground.

“Ram Dover! What are you doing outside of the walls?” I yelled at him, shoving against his horns. “Go home, you bad sheep!”

He did nothing but shove back at me, making my feet slide in the dirt with his strength.

Just then I heard yelling off in the distance and recognized the voices as several people from our town, probably here to chase after the missing livestock. I couldn’t afford them catching the ram and catch me in addition so I hastily tugged on the horn, leading him where we could easily lose the pursuers.

I heard moaning just then and spotted a small herd of walkers. At the sight of the sheep they hobbled forwards but with me so close to their quarry they seemed to change their mind. The yelling from our pursuers diverted them and I considered leaving Ram Dover to bring their attentions away from our friends.

I finally decided against it. My friends had experience and there were only a few of these undead. We only had one ram and if he died we lost a whole flock. It would distract our friends and I could return later with Ram Dover once the Saviors had left.

For the moment I reluctantly allowed the sheep to remain as my traveling companion. We walked until I was sure our pursuers had been diverted by the herd. Hopefully they hadn’t been surprised and hopefully no one was dead or hurt.

“Alright,” I said to him, keeping a hand on one of his horns the same way an adult might keep a hand on the ear of a misbehaving child, “You can come, it’s not like I have any other choice about it, but if you knock me over one more time, you can find your way home one your own.”

He gave me a responding baa, and followed along. Even knowing that we were well on our own now, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me, following along in the distance. Every time I looked over my shoulder though, there was no one there, no one that had dodged out of the way at the last moment but I felt them on my back even so. I was sure now that I definitely didn’t want to take him to the island. It seemed now as though it were in danger of being discovered by more than just a renegade ram.

I kept walking with the ram at my side. If nothing else I could at least see if I could bring back some dinner.

The snares should have been alright, assuming nothing had beat me to them. Fishing and checking the honey tree seemed productive in addition to that. There was also a patch of wild raspberries and blackberries that should have been good to gather. They ought to have been ripe enough by now. Surely they were.

Sudden barks and loud yelping interrupted my thoughts just then and I recognized the sounds of the local pack of wild dogs. I would have sprinted but they weren’t hunting. They were being hunted—or attacked it sounded like. Curiosity winning out over common sense, I moved towards the sounds and came upon a grove where a den was dug into the earth around a large pine.

All around me were bodies of the pack as dozens of walkers tore large chunks of their hides off. The yelping was unbearable as I witnessed the creatures being slaughtered. I didn’t really think it through before I grabbed a large stick and leapt down, swinging it wildly at the monsters.

“GO! Get out of here!” I shouted, swinging it back and forth.

They looked up from their food by the commotion but at the sight of me, they began to move slowly away.

For the dogs that were already dead, I could do nothing for. The dogs that were dying, I was only able to put them out of their misery.

I always hated this part, as necessary as it was. Vanessa and John had instructed me on it. Either snap their necks or burry a knife in their skulls was the way to kill an animal. The cute ones were always the hardest.

I still remember the first time I held a rabbit in my arms and was directed to break its neck.

It was awful.

I still feel how it stayed so still in my arms, so trusting yet frightened, almost like so long as it remained calm, it may appeal to my better nature. It was agony to snuff that hopeful little gaze out.

With wounded animals, like these ones, it was a bit easier.

They were in such pain and I knew there was not a thing I could do for them other than try to alleviate some of that pain. But I knew better than to approach any of them. Walkers often carried diseases, dogs too, not to mention they’d be even more vicious now that they knew their time was limited.

I tossed knives at them instead.

I was good at tossing knives. I was good with a slingshot as well—better in fact. I had tried a bow and arrow before but they always seemed so bulky and hard to maneuver for me. So I opted with the knives and slingshots instead. They were small, lightweight, good to aim, and easier to conceal in my clothes.

When finished, it looked like the walkers had killed off the whole pack of seven dogs.

I felt bad. They had been my only real competition out here; they were mean, vicious, and more dangerous even than walkers, but we had shared these woods together. It didn’t feel right how they had gone.

Just then Ram Dover moved towards the den. I had almost forgotten he was there before he bayed.

“No, Dover, stay out of…”

I trailed off as I looked inside. I guess the whole pack hadn’t died after all.

Inside the den were around five small bundles of fur; puppies. Judging from their closed eyes and their frailty they couldn’t have been more than a couple weeks old at the most.

I knew what would happen to them were I to turn around right now.

They would die; plain and simple as that. Their pack was dead and no one would take care of them or protect them from the walkers.

I thought about leaving them anyways, but somehow Ram Dover looked at me accusingly as if reading my mind.

“We won’t be able to keep them.” I told him. He kept staring at me in that accusing sort of way. “It’s not that easy!” I stated, trying to shake his expression. He just continued to fix me with that stare.

“I thought you were a sheep here! Don’t you hate these things?” He only stared.

It would be nearly impossible to feed them, when it was hard to even feed ourselves some times, but I just couldn’t bring myself to turn away.

“Alright already! Geez, you don’t have to yell at me!”

Grudgingly I pulled off my new knapsack.

Rearranging things a bit, I managed to convert the bag into a makeshift carrier and placed the puppies inside one at a time. They were small, so that was good at least, but I worried the bag would suffocate them. I left the flap opened and arranged them side by side so they had the easiest access to fresh air.

Going back home was a little harder than I anticipated. I needed to walk carefully, and the ram by my side, while he hadn’t plowed into me again so far, kept knocking into my side and throwing me off my path. Perhaps he understood I was his only protection against the dead things lurking around the woods and so long as he stayed at my side, none of them would come near him.

When I reached home, I was just in time to watch as Negan and his crew was loading up. But before going he turned to my father and I managed to be close enough to catch what was said.

“Crying shame I missed your daughter before she went on that big run with your other people. Hope she gets back safely.” He turned, his sickening white smirk catching the sun as he looked back. “Can’t imagine what kind of a loss that might do to someone like you…”

I wanted so badly to hit him with something, maybe use my slingshot to teach him a lesson, but I stayed rooted, straining my ears to hear what he said.

“You know I was wondering how you got those sheep in the first place. What’s this “elf” talk going on? Got a wanderer in the woods watching your backs now?”

“I wouldn’t really know.” Dad said calmly. “Sometimes we find things it leaves us. Food mostly.” My heart began to speed up. “Remedies it might manufacture itself. Sometimes honey. Nothing you’d probably be interested in, though.”

My heart caught in my throat by the mention of honey and I knew at that moment that Negan realized it at the same time.

“We never see it and it doesn’t seem to be out to do us harm.”

Negan was silent for a long dreadful moment, long enough to make my stomach tie in all sorts of horrible knots.

“Anyone who wonders alone in the woods at a time like this in history,” He began with an unsettling smirk, “without joining the people they’re helping, does it because they’ve got a _secret_. I’m surprised you haven’t worked harder to find out what that secret is.” I hated the way he said the word “secret” and knew he was determined to find out what _my_ secret was long before my father could figure it out. I wanted to shrink right into the ground I stood on and not move ever again.

I was almost entirely petrified as I watched him turn after bidding my father goodbye and telling him when they would be back again. Then he climbed into one of the two carts he brought with him today and sped off with Dad watching them go, making sure they were out of sight before he turned back into Alexandria. I waited maybe one minute before I rushed up myself and tied Ram Dover to the outside gate, leaving the puppies in a crate lined with a towel from one of the broken down surrounding houses.

Ram Dover bayed loudly, drawing the attention of the guard who wasted no time in bringing him back inside along with the puppies.

When I returned through my usual route I spotted my Dad as he was coming down the road from the main entrance. His gaze seemed a bit haunted just then as he caught sight of me. With hardly any emotion he walked up to me and said very quietly, “Git home.”

I had no idea what was going through his mind but I sensed something serious was about to happen, so without a word I obeyed. He followed behind, being sure that I got home without making any detours.

Once the door had shut behind him, I looked up, waiting for what he would say.

“How long have you been going out of the walls alone?”

I stared at him. His face wasn’t angry; in fact it was entirely expressionless. I had no idea what he was thinking or feeling right now and the uncertainty of it was what unnerved me the most.

“I…” There were no words that I could think of.

“I know you’ve been out there.” He said. “How long have you been going out there?”

I looked away from his eyes. “A while.”

“Do you want to tell me why?”

“ _Why_ not?” I shrugged, being indifferent towards the idea.

“Because you’re a child, Judith.” He announced voice growing steadily sterner. “There are an infinite number of things out there that can kill you and I don’t think you understand that.”

“I _do_ understand that, Dad.” I said looking back at him. “That’s why I’m still alive in the first place. I can last longer out there than anyone.”

His face seemed to flinch involuntarily by that.

“Are you the elf?”

I couldn’t meet his gaze. “Yes.”

He didn’t look like he totally believed it. “How is that possible? All the things we’ve gotten over these past years. How did you even find them?”

I wasn’t sure I could tell him about my friend who left so long ago and had been the culprit for our most outrageous and successful foraging voyages. Such things would have been impossible for me to have accomplished alone and Dad knew it.

“…You had help. Didn’t you?”

Silently I nodded.

“What happened to them?”

I looked at the ground and sighed, working hard to keep my eyes dry as I answered. “He’s just gone, Dad. He left me, and he’s not coming back.”

I focused on the ground, unable to look him in the eye while he processed the wave of sudden discovery.

“How many walkers have you killed?”

My head snapped up and I stared back at him in shock. This was one of three questions we asked newcomers before we let anyone join us. They were the questions we asked to see if someone could be trusted or not. Now my father was questioning his trust in me by asking me the same three questions.

“Dad!” I gasped in appall. “Are you really asking me those questions right now?”

“How many walkers have you killed?” He said more firmly.

I didn’t drop my gaze. “One.”

His face flashed with a stunned streak by the thought of such a low number, but he continued without commenting on it. “How many people have you killed?”

My fists clenched tightly. “Just one.”

He wasn’t surprised by that.

“Why?”

My brain racked for an answer he would believe. “I guess… because I’ve just been lucky.”

“Exactly!” He said. Every inch of his body was tense with seriousness. Then he leaned down putting his hands on my shoulders to look me dead in the eye. “You’ve been lucky! That’s the only reason you managed to stay alive for this long. But that luck is going to run out, Judith and I’m not letting you go out there again to watch that happen.”

“You can’t protect me forever, Dad.”

“It’s still my job to try.” He stretched up to his full height and looked down at me. “By the way, why did Negan ask about you? He’s never done that before.”

I didn’t say anything, but he figured it out anyways. “You met him in the woods, didn’t you?”

Dropping my gaze, I nodded.

“That’s how he knew it was your birthday.”

Again I nodded.

“What happened?” He said, almost frantically. His imagination was running wild and I could tell from his gaze that a million horrible possibilities were running unchecked through his head at such a terrifying idea.

“I wasn’t hurt.” I said easing his worries a bit. “I was just walking and I heard him and his men beating someone up. They caught me. Negan recognized me but couldn’t remember from where for a moment. Then he did. He thought it was funny and he wanted to know why I was outside the wall so late and actually wanted to know if you knew I was out there on my own. I got angry at him and dared him to tell on me to you.” Just then I glared back at him in a scandalized way. “Did he really tell on me to you?”

Dad looked very much like he wanted to face palm about now. “You’re missing the point. And I _do_ figure some things out on my own. You’re not as discreet as you think.” He steered me back to my retelling and I continued.

“Well they searched me and took my bag. And…”

“And what?”

“…I might’ve challenged him a bit.”

“You challenged him?”

I nodded. “Then he told me about the night that Glenn and Abraham died.”

He froze and his eyes grew to the size of saucers. His whole face seemed to drain of all color while he stared back at me.

“H-how much did he tell you?” His face looked utterly terrified.

“Just most of what I already knew.” I whispered. “He bashed their heads in. He made everyone watch. Then his men beat each and every one of them.” We both flinched at the imagery and Dad’s hands tightened on my shoulders, trembling slightly.

“And…?”

“And then… he said that you and him got familiar with one another.” I still didn’t understand what that meant but it was plain from his expression that was an enormous understatement. Something crossed over his face by it, like the shadow of something so dark there were no words for it.

“Dad?” I whispered, reaching out for him carefully. “Dad, are you alright?”

“I—I…” He didn’t answer for one long terrifying moment. His head bowed and he looked suddenly very sick and faint.

“Dad!” I grabbed his shoulder, attempting to steady him.

“I’m fine.” He said, regaining his composure. “I’m fine. Just go on. Tell me what happened next.”

I hesitated while I watched if he would stumble again before feeling confident enough to keep going.

“After he said that he threatened and shouted at me and I got scared. It seemed like what he wanted because he backed off after that. Then he wanted my help with something.” Dad tensed again. “He wanted me to decide what we would do with the man he had beaten up.”

“And what did you say?”

A lump formed in the back of my throat at the thought of it. I was so angry, tears gathered at the corners of my eyes. “I-I knew him—alright! I recognized him because he was one of the men that stole all our medicine. I was just so angry! I hated him. I imagined it was Negan and I thought about what I wanted to be done to him so… so I…”

He waited for me to finish and when I finally found the courage to speak again I said it all in a frantic rush as if it would hurt less if I said it quick, like ripping off a band-aid.

“I told them to strip him and throw him in a herd!”

His grip on me loosened and he looked shocked. “Judith…”

“I know okay!” I shouted tears bursting from my eyes. “He let me decide and I… I didn’t … I was just so…” His arms encircled me and I sobbed in his chest. “I hate them! I hate them all! I want the worst things ever to happen to them! Abraham’s gone, Glenn can’t be at peace, Maggie’s in hiding, everyone is scared to death, and… they broke you! Out of everything that’s happened—that just…”

He looked like he wanted to die when I said those words.

“Did they make you watch?”

“No… I slipped away while the man was panicking. No one even knew I was going until I was gone. They couldn’t catch me.”

He breathed a deep sigh of relief after that and relaxed, if only slightly.

“Nothing else happened?”

“No. I came home after that.”

“Did they watch you come back?”

“No. They didn’t. I’m sure they didn’t. They would have caught me and dragged me back to watch otherwise. I know they would’ve.”

He was quiet for another very long moment.

“You’re lucky.” He said lowly, “God, you’re lucky you got away. But you can’t rely on luck anymore. There’s not enough of it left in the world. You’re never leaving these walls alone again, you hear me? If you go out, you take Carl, me, or Michonne with you. No exceptions.”

I nodded. It was only fair.

“Also, you’re grounded… forever.”


	9. A Wolf at the Door and a Puppy at the Window

** Chapter 9  
A Wolf at the Door and a Puppy at the Window **

The puppies were greeted with mixed feelings around the town. Some people argued we couldn’t feed them all, others like Rosita latched on to one right away and refused to give hers up.

It was finally decided that if anyone wanted them they were required to take care of them on their own. Dad made me take one, since he now knew I was the mysterious elf that had been leaving things on our doorstep, though he thankfully kept that information as private. I had found them so I was responsible for the majority of them anyways. Rosita and Carl both helped a lot with them.

Back when the USA was still a functioning nation, Rosita used to volunteer at a local animal shelter and had been responsible for any abandoned puppies and kittens and that included feeding them. She showed us how to make formula for them with goat’s milk, eggs, yogurt, mayonnaise, and some corn syrup we found hidden in the town pantry.

It didn’t smell as bad as I thought it would, and when offered to the blind babies in some old bottles, they guzzled it all hungrily. We had to feed them every three hours and it was hard-pressed caring for them. One of them died in that first week. Rosita figured it was from pneumonia and she buried him in the graveyard next to Deanna’s stone.

The others seemed to remain stable till the end of ten more days when their eyes opened and they began to actually walk rather than scoot around on their tummies. I started to favor a grey one with a white spot on the middle of its chest which I thought looked a bit like a star. I started calling him Sheriff after that.

I wasn’t all that popular with the other kids in town, but puppies were like some kind of magical kid-nip or something that attracted them as easily as flies to honey. They never let slip an opportunity to pat one of them on the head.

Rosita chose one that was bright red with a white underbelly and called him Lincoln. He was a little slower than the others and slightly rounder in that regards as well. She said he resembled a bit like a corgi.

Father Gabriel also took one that was white with a two odd sort of brown streaks on her back, or wings as he decided. Angel seemed an appropriate name for her after that, and not just because of the wings but because she was the sweetest one in the litter.

The last one went to Enid who grew fond of the quiet black dog with bi-colored eyes, one blue and the other brown. She was by far the most beautiful dog among the four and was given a name that seemed just as perfect; Eclipse. She walked with a silent steady grace, and resembled the elegance and mystery of a lone wolf. She was so much different from the others who were much more energetic.

I loved those dogs. All of them.

They were such fluffy little things. When I fed them they’d give off tiny mews and barks and curl close to me, eager for affection and warmth. It rolled off of me in waves for them and I wondered if this was how parents felt when holding their children for the first time. I felt like a mama wolf with her little pups around her and wondered how I could have ever thought to leave them behind when Ram Dover and I came upon their attacked den.

I didn’t like thinking about that moment. It made a large stab of guilt swirl all around me for such a heartless thought. Even if other people would have looked at them like burdens I knew without a doubt that I did the right thing.

Once they were big enough to eat solid foods they were handed out to their individual owners and became prone to following them all around. Even Little Sherriff tailed me whenever he could. Often he found ways to escape the house or the back fence of our yard to look for me around town. He followed me everywhere. Even to school.

During my incarceration there was an awkward situation that took place in school. I was in class with the other children around town when Mrs. Lakely’s lecture on the history of the United States was cut off abruptly by someone knocking on the door. All attention was diverted just then to find Negan standing in the doorway.

“Um… c-can I help you, sir?” She said awkwardly.

“I just thought I’d see how the youth of Alexandria were doing these days.”

She looked deeply uncomfortable with this idea. “Oh… uh… well no one told me you’d be dropping in and I’m… I don’t…”

“Oh don’t mind me.” He said strolling in and taking a seat at one of the empty back tables which were used to explain the separate level math work we were all at individually. “Go on with what you were saying. Just pretend I’m not here.”

That was way easier said than done.

He faced forward and waited for the lesson to resume with apt attention on everyone. I faced forward before his eyes caught on me and kept my head down knowing perfectly why he was here now. My neck got hot and I felt sick as I took in the shock of all my classmates.

I could hear everyone murmuring around me in hushed and fearful voices.

“Why is he here?”

“I thought he wasn’t allowed…”

“Do you think it’s because we’re in trouble?”

“Well he must not have liked what he got today.”

“You don’t think he’s here to take it out on us, do you?”

I remained silent, unable to move in my seat or contribute anything to the stunned conversations being thrown around. Eventually Mrs. Lakely brought everyone’s attention back towards her lecture, though it looked like she herself was having trouble concentrating with the intimidating audience.

It wasn’t the first time he had sat in during a school activity. A few years ago he was present for the annual Christmas program and let’s just say that had ended rather catastrophically. Though I guess _technically_ he hadn’t intentionally caused it, I still consider his attendance to be the foundation of why it ended so disastrously.

* * *

_**Flashback**_  
I had had bad experiences with plays in the past. From the time I was very small I was prone to causing all sorts of trivial disturbances during our seasonal programs. Making faces while other children were in the middle of solos, picking my nose and stooping to wipe it on the floor, making spit bubbles with my mouth and tong, or merely swinging my arms back and forth instead of following along with the choreography with everyone else the way we had been drilled to do for weeks.

For me it was the seasonal production of utter torment. I’m sure in my own personal version of hell there is a stage set with small children that is standing in a line to sing the worst choir songs ever fathomed forever and ever. And I am stuck as one of them; Stuck forever in a ridiculous costume singing off-pitch to the prompting of the lackadaisical efforts of a pianist who’s too tone deaf to tell the difference between an F sharp and a C flat.

Even so, I wasn’t the only one who dreaded those events. My antics were often met with identical looks of mortification from my family within the audience. Once I remember my father spending the better part of a whole spring concert with his head in his hands while I used the time digging for earwax absently, swinging my arms back and forth, making faces of boredom during solos, and doing jumping jacks instead of following the Itsy Bitsy Spider routine the instructor had taught us.

The year before the whole Negan and Savior mess we did a rendition of the Nativity Story. At this time I was just beginning to learn more about Pagan cultures and traditions; I had an interest in them even before I met Vanessa. There was this book on the history of holidays that I pored over with great intrigue.

During a lesson on the birth of Christ and why we celebrate Christmas I interrupted Mrs. Lakely to stand up and tell everyone it was completely inaccurate because from the evidence found in the Bible and other scriptures, Jesus was born in late fall and not winter seeing as how it was doubtful any shepherd would have been out in the fields during such a bitter season. Furthermore Christians had just stolen all these traditions from Pagan faiths. I went on to describe how the Bible was written by a bunch of sexist prejudice old men who kept contradicting themselves.

“They go on in circles about everything!” I announced. And I was so annoyed about it that I just couldn’t stop ranting. “Really they say over and over again ‘ _Do not learn the ways of the nations… they cut down a tree out of the forest and a craftsman shapes it with his chisel. They adorn it with silver and gold; they fasten it with hammer and nails so it will not totter._ ’ But after about maybe a hundred years of stealing traditions from other cultures they had the nerve to go off and say that cutting down the tree symbolizes the death of Jesus and that to stand it back up with tinsel and decorations symbolizes his glorious resurrection.”

All I was trying to say was that if you’re going to have a bleep about something, make sure you cover your ass about it!

I wasn’t done with my rant as I went on to say the scripture strictly states that we aren’t allowed to even celebrate these customs as it looked down upon any traditions stemming from any faith that wasn’t Christianity since everyone who doesn’t recognize Jesus as the savior is doomed to a life in hell anyways.

I was on a roll but before I could get very far everyone yelled at me like _I_ was the bad guy.

One of the older girls, Lizzie Pelzer was her name, told me to shut up and that I was only a dumb little kid and my word was garbage.

My patience in all of this had been stretched thin and I ended up throwing a music book at her head. She cried about, so I was sent out and reported to my parents. I had secretly hoped that the burst of aggression would at least ban me from the performance but I was only grounded. Dad made me perform in the play anyways. I was given the humiliating role of a sheep and was told to follow one of the shepherds around on my hands and knees when they approached the manger.

While waiting outside though, Lizzie and her posse dumped snow down the back of my costume and I got so mad that I tore off her cardboard angle wings. After that the teacher decided that since I was such a problem child I was told to sit in the audience with my family rather than having me on stage to cause another ruckus.

That was just fine with me! I wasn’t there for other people’s entertainment, anyways. They could sing to amuse themselves if they wanted. Just leave me out of it!

The next day was Christmas. Unfortunately that year Santa seemed to have skipped our house and whatever presents were waiting for me were withheld till next year. I received only a letter, explaining Santa’s disappointment in me for my lack of self-control for the play.

Unfortunately the outburst did not ban me for life. The following year an even bigger catastrophe unfolded.

The winter when I was seven the school was performing a play for a Christmas Hansel and Gretel. It was the adult’s meager attempt to inspire cheer and goodwill among the community. Yet it did nothing to make people forget the situation we were still in with Negan and the Saviors.

The only one who showed any enthusiasm was Lizzie who’d been chosen to hold the main role of Gretel while a boy named Jim was chosen to be Hansel. Her irritating cheerful attitude grated on my nerves and I auditioned for the role of the Wicked Witch just to be given the opportunity to boss her around for a while and force her head into an over, even if it was only for pretend. Unfortunately I was too short to pull off such a role and it was given to Lizzie’s best friend Dora.

Instead I was sentenced to the mortifying role of a cursed gingerbread girl who sang a song with two gingerbread boys about being imprisoned as cookies by the evil witch… And. It. Was. Dumb!

My costume consisted of white, red, and teal striped candy cane tights, a short pleated red and white skirt, and a brown sweatshirt with red and teal puffballs sewn on it to resemble gumdrop buttons. To add to this humiliation my hair was tied up in two pigtails with bright red and white striped ribbons, much like my candy cane tights.

Mrs. Lakely had assured me that I looked _adorable_ , but my reflection spoke better truth; I looked _ridiculous_. The idea of dressing up in that horrifying monkey suit and putting on a show for everyone repulsed me so much, that I’d skip on practice. My dad found out what I’d been doing and personally dragged me to the performance hall every day after that.

The day of the play arrived and I stood with my companions on stage as we began to sing awkwardly. Before walking on stage though, I caught sight of a paint can someone had carelessly forgotten to remove from stage. It looked like it was anchoring one of the cut-out forest props so it wouldn’t fall down, so then maybe it hadn’t been forgotten so much as positioned in the hope that no one would notice it.

My attention turned as the music began and the three of us started to sing.

“We three children under a spell Cookies now is how we do dwell Free us sister, Free us brother, To return us to our fathers and mothers”

I sang nervously with the two gingerbread boys when all at once I spotted several saviors standing in the back along with Negan of all people leaning in one of the chairs as he sat with my dad, Michonne and Carl. Curious and angry glances from surrounding Alexandrians were shot towards him, but no one could say anything about this outrage so they remained reluctantly silent about their attendance.

My eyes widened with horror and when Negan looked right at me the words to the song faltered in my throat.

_How did he know about the play? Why did he have to come and make this whole embarrassing moment ten times worse?_

My mind went entirely blank and I choked. The words of the song! They were completely gone, and all the other kids were following me. When they realized my voice was no longer audible, they stopped singing as well and looked around timidly in confusion and guidance. A cold sweat broke out on my neck and I stood there in total silence.

I could see Lizzie on the other side of the stage, dressed in her Gretel costume and glaring at me hard enough to spit fire out of her eyes. I didn’t sing for three more lines and the rest copied me.

Lizzie leaned in. “Sing.” She hissed.

Still nothing.

The pianist had stopped playing and the director was prompting us insistently with our lines.

Still nothing.

I could feel my face glowing hot in humiliation as time stretched with no improvement. “Sing!” Lizzie said again, a bit louder. Her patience in me was rapidly dwindling.

My eyes swerved to look at her, anger and rebellion boiling in that stare. The sight of the spoiled little brat made my brow lower with fury and now I wasn’t singing, not just because I didn’t know the words, but out of pure unfiltered defiance.

Lizzie saw the glare I cast at her and her face twisted in hatred. Impulsively, she stomped her foot in outrage, making an echoing boom all through the hall and shaking the stage as she roared at me. “SIIIING!” Everyone jumped at the force of it. The entire hall was turned to Lizzie now as she raged on. “SING, you little insect! This is so typical, Grimes! Stop ruining this play like your stupid dad ruins everything else! NOW SING, YOU USELESS SCAB!”

Lizzie crossed a big freaking line with those words, and in those few sentences she had sealed her fate.

“That does it!” I shrieked, grabbing those ridiculous ribbons right out of my hair and throwing them on the ground angrily, adding force to the statement. Blind fury took over my next moves and I grabbed the paint bucket they had forgotten about and chucked it right at Lizzie’s Big. Fat. Ugly. Face!

Its impact was precise. The bucket soared through the air, trailing a long tail of green before it made contact with Lizzie’s head. Green went everywhere, soaking her hair and painting down across her front in big globs, sticking to her blonde curls and ruining her costume completely. There was an enormous wave of satisfaction that shot through me at the sight of her in that state; then it was gone all too quickly.

The entire building was shocked speechless and I heard a deep intake of breath from the crowd as they witnessed the madness that had unfolded. For a moment, time stopped completely. I glanced over at my dad, Michonne, Carl, Negan, and the Saviors and saw that all their mouths had dropped in unison. I distantly considered how much trouble this would earn me later when we got home and regretted the action for a brief moment.

Then that moment was up.

“YOU! RUINED! MY! DREEEEEEEEEEEEEEESS!” The red on Lizzie’s face was as if a devil had been summoned directly into the girl’s body. I saw fire rise from her back and like a flash of lighting, was out on the stage to tear me apart. I’ll give her points for that as I partially expected her to start crying instead of taking immediate action.

I felt anger blind me as I charged the oncoming girl head-on. The two of us collided with one another in the center, screaming, biting, hitting, and pulling hair like two rabid animals: a raging, gingerbread girl and a furious, red and green Gretel.

She was on me a moment later and grabbed a fistful of hair while I fought back hitting, scratching, and biting with everything I had. Several kids ran up from off of the stage to help break the tousle apart but instead ended up being caught in the rampage themselves. The stage was immediately animated with anarchy as the entirety of the cast was engaged in a massive fistfight right there in front of our family, friends, and enemies.

Mrs. Chett (the music teacher) was near stage right, pulling her hair out in tuffs as her great play was falling to pieces in front of her. “Gaaaaah! My play! My beautiful paly!”

That didn’t cause anyone to divert from their initial prey and everyone continued to fight blindly.

“You little brat!” Lizzie shouted slapping me hard enough to make me spin. “Time to teach a stupid cookie minion a lesson you’ll never forget!”

I did a one-eighty with my fist curling into a ball to punch her hard enough in the gut she doubled over in pain. I used her position to force her into a headlock and pulled more on her now-tangled curls. “If there’s anyone who needs schooling, it’s some condescending idiot girl!”

We continued to fight within the warzone of children. It seemed a bit like the minor characters were fighting the majority of the main cast. Abigail was holding Boxy’s gingerbread costume over his head, while Leo pushed Dora’s witch hat all the way down passed her chin. Ryan and Darla were busy throwing each other around just as Jim and Griffin took turns choking each other, all while the younger cast either cried where they stood in the middle of the stage or chose sides and hit anyone and everyone with various stage props.

Lizzie eventually maneuvered me into a headlock and dragged me across the stage. I responded by wetting my mouth with as much saliva as I could and drooled all over her arms. Lizzie screamed in disgust and released me, trying to wipe the drippy, goo off her, but I took the distraction to run at her from behind and grabbed fistfuls of her hair. The entire auditorium was erupted with our screams of rage.

“I’ll scalp you with my bear hands!”

“Aaaaaah! Let go you demented little freak!”

“DO NOT CALL ME A FREAK!”

“FREAK! FREAK! FREAK! FREAK! FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAK!”

I heard my dad yelling just then and several parents were scrambling on stage to try and break up the massive brawl. Lizzie was able to use her larger size to her advantage as she wrestled out of the grip I had on her and grabbed at my throat, her fingers tangling in the charm necklace I hid under my clothes. I felt a link snap as she tugged hard. The chain ripped from my neck where she tossed it to the side and I roared in fury for her disrespectful move then punched her again, this time in the teeth.

Arms grabbed me from behind and I recognized my dad’s voice as he ordered me to let her go. I could see Lizzie’s own mother grabbing her in the same way, each parent trying to drag their children off each other. There were other parents on stage with their own arms around their children, trying in vain to reestablish order.

Meanwhile Carl remained off to the side snapping pictures with a Polaroid he had brought with him. For this, Dad roared at him as he continued trying to tear me and Lizzie apart.

“CARL! DOES THIS _LOOK_ LIKE AN EVENT WE WANT TO REMEMBER!?”

At last we were separated but I still fought to get at the brat, determined to beat her to a pulp. Even her mother was such a bitch!

“You should put a muzzle on that animal of yours!”

“I hate you!” I screamed, trying to fight out of Dad’s arms. “I hope you both get…”

“Judith Gertrude Grimes, don’t you dare!”

But I ignored him, stabbing my finger at the woman and daughter summoning all the magic in my blood and finishing the hex with a scream, “…CHICKENPOX!”

The mother and daughter gasped in shock and the girl could barely contain her terror with the spell that was cast, backing away like they were backing away from the devil.

Dad hastily tried to amend my prior statement. “She was just kidding.”

“Come on, Dad.” Carl announced with a role of his eye, still aiming the camera at us. “She was not kidding. She was _definitely_ not kidding.”

“Carl, you’re not helping.” He said through gritted teeth. “And for the last time GET THAT THING OUT OF MY FACE!” He snatched the camera away and threw it on the ground where it broke before the final picture had finished developing completely.

With the play ruined everyone was told to go home. Negan and the visiting Saviors were the only ones to find anything funny about the catastrophe and before leaving he clapped my dad on the back condescendingly. “Thanks for the show, Rick. It started to get a little boring towards the middle but the ending was by far the best part. I tell ya, what a twist. I never even saw it coming. Don’t be too hard on her, though. If you ask me, I think Gretel deserved it.”

I hated that those words were spoken from _him_ rather than someone like Michonne which would have cheered me up otherwise.

When we got home I was in a world of trouble while Dad yelled at me and I yelled right back at him. I believe it was one of the few times Dad ever resorted to using the belt on me. Days later I was banned from practicing in all future school performances and I could say with total honesty that that was perfectly fine with me.

On a far stranger note a few days following Lizzie and her mother came down with an unexpected case of chickenpox. From that day forward all the children and most of the adults in town treated me with mixed emotions of awe and caution. I believe the term “witch” was thrown around much more often when describing me after that.

Thankfully my friend John was able to cheer me up days later when we both decided to pull off our greatest feat of foraging the town or anyone had ever seen before.

* * *

Negan's presence inspired just as much disruption today as it did those years ago. Every now and then I could feel my peers sneak occasional glances at the man and then turn back again to whisper something to their neighbor. I was the only one that kept my gaze forward, determined not to turn no matter how much his eyes on my back burned.

This felt borderline creepy and I couldn’t help but search for the clock in desperation. School unfortunately wouldn’t be let out for another two hours. Was he planning to sit in for the remainder of that time? I desperately wished for a reason—any reason—to get out of there. I was considering asking if I would have been okay to go to the bathroom and sneak out that way, when scratching suddenly came from the window followed by frantic yips. Sherriff was outside again, making a fuss and desperate to get my attention. He must have found a way out of the house again.

A swell of relief filled me since I now had my escape.

“Mrs. Lakely,” I said raising my hand to get her attention. She looked towards me and I stood. “My dog is here again. Can I take him back home?”

I think under normal circumstances she would have scolded me, especially since she never missed an opportunity to do so. Plus it was the third time he had found his way here after all, and she was getting impatient with me. But a brief glance towards the back made her think better of it somehow. She didn’t want to put any of her students in line of Negan’s attention so she let it be this one time.

“Alright. Take him home, but be back quickly.”

The door out of the class was at the back and I’d have to pass Negan and the two men he brought with him to get out. But rather than do that, I silently turned to the window, opened it and dove through rolling nimbly on the grass outside. This earned several giggles from the other children and for this Mrs. Lakely _did_ scold me.

“Judith Grimes, use the door like a normal human!”

“This is faster and I’m already outside!” I whined.

“Don’t do that again, we’re not burglars.”

“That can’t be said for _everyone_ today!” I yelled it loud enough that all those inside were able to hear and in the class I saw several students gasp in surprise by my outburst while a few of the boys grinned impulsively for my ballsy statement.

Mrs. Lakely looked absolutely horrified, because _really,_ everyone knew who I was talking about.

“ _Judith_!” She hissed, but I was already scurrying down the street with the puppy in my arms before she could call me back.

I wasn’t going to go home, not right away at least. This invasive development from that monster had crossed a big fat line and if my father didn’t already know about it he was going to get an earful from me and the other parents when this got out.

I spotted him being forced to load up supplies while those lazy Saviors stood by talking and grinning smugly.

“ _Father_!” I said accusingly, bringing his attention up to look at me in surprise.

“Judith, what are you doing here? You should be in school.”

“That is exactly why I’m here. Do you know _where_ Negan is right now?”

His eyes went wide and a look of total horror and appall crossed his face when it dawned on him.

“Exactly! Now as a new parent myself I am here to discuss the boundaries that have been breached with this intrusive development! Obviously a line has been crossed and I want to be sure that you of all people understand that!”

He jumped out of the van and stormed down the street. “Judith, go home and stay there. Get in your room and lock the door. I will handle this!”

He was angry and that was good. I ran off to do as I was told, running up the stairs two at a time and barricading myself inside with my puppy. I got on the mattress holding the little thing close to me while I tried to guess what was happening at the moment. After a while I heard muffled voices outside my window and recognized Negan, Carl and Dad arguing. From what I could guess by their tones it sounded heated.

Out of curiosity I got up to watch it all from my window. I didn’t think to open it, I just stood there staring out, wondering what this argument would bring. Dad seemed to be yelling at Negan furiously. I wasn’t sure what he said but out of nowhere I gasped suddenly when Negan threw a punch at my dad. His swing was powerful enough to send the man immediately to the ground. I knew my dad could take punches well, so to send him sprawling with one blow was deeply unsettling.

Negan stood over him, holding his bat on his shoulder while he talked more. His back was to me so I couldn’t see his expression very well, but if I had to guess I believed he was smiling. A few of his men flanked him at that moment and before I could blink two were holding my brother back while three others beat on my dad. My heart in my throat I cried out in shock and pressed against the glass in horror. I didn’t know how long I watched it happen before my body moved. Throwing my door open I tore down the stairs rushing into the kitchen for the broom. As an afterthought I grabbed a knife on top of that.

I was fully prepared to beat them senseless for attacking my dad and brother like that, yet when I opened the door Carl was crouched beside Dad where he lay bloody on the ground. In the meantime Negan and his men loaded into their trucks and were out before I had the chance to attack with my weapons. They were lucky they tucked tail when they did. I was ready for some blood.

Not just that, I was seething so much I could barely believe it, but I pushed it aside as I helped Carl lift Dad up and lead him into the house where we could look after his injuries. He seemed to catch sight of the broom and knife I held.

“And just what were you planning to do with those, young lady?” He asked accusingly. I remained quiet but he didn’t need an answer to figure out what I’d been intending. “I thought I told you to stay in the house?”

“You know I don’t listen very well.” I told him, looking away.

“No you certainly don’t.”

We patched him up in silence and resumed our routine, working to replace the supplies that we’d been robbed of and tried not to let the anger blind us as we muscled through.

Thankfully Sherriff cheered me up a little that night when he curled up with me on my mattress. Again I was grateful for the presence of the puppies.

While taking care of them for that long duration, I found very few opportunities to sneak away and get back to the island. As much as I loved the puppies I had other responsibilities. The garden needed tending and for anyone who wasn’t me, it was hard getting there through the statues safely. Enid offered to go, but I wasn’t sure about it. Walkers could jump out of that crowd so easily if you weren’t careful.

She chose to go anyways. Enid loved that place just as much as I did and it wasn’t right to deny her entrance just because I wasn’t around. But it didn’t keep me from worrying every time she went out. Being grounded wasn’t fun. I was watched around the clock, my window was rigged to alert Dad and Michonne if I snuck out at night, and I was starting to suffer from severe cabin fever.

Finally I decided to ask Dad how long this would last.

“I told you. Forever.”

“Daaaaad! I’m serious, how long am I going to be grounded? It’s been a whole month! I have things to do! No one else can do them but me!”

“We’ve been over this. You don’t go outside of the wall on your own and that’s final. No more discussion on this.”

And without another word he turned and left. I began to realize that the only way I was going to get through to him was if I myself told him the truth. If this wasn’t proof that he was bound and determined to protect and keep me with him at all costs then I didn’t know what else there was for me to do. I couldn’t be afraid anymore. The time for being afraid was over. I had to take this step. My father didn’t trust me and to earn that trust I needed to show him that I trusted him with the biggest secret in the world.

I had to start trusting him.

* * *

 

**Author's Notes: The Christmas scene was inspired by Diary of a Wimpy Kid as well as Practical Magic.**


	10. A Secret Garden

**Chapter 10**  
 **The Secret Garden**  
“Dad, are you doing anything today?” I asked looking up hopefully from the pan I was drying. Michonne and Carl had already gone to their jobs for the day, leaving the two of us behind to clean the dishes. His wounds were still clearing up, but he looked better.

“Well there were a few things I was planning to get finished, sweetie.” He announced. “Why?”

“Nothing…” I sighed. “I just wanted to spend the day together.”

A gentle smile graced his features as he looked at me. “Maybe I could put it off for one more day.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s been a while since we had a father daughter day. Did you have something in mind?”

“Could we go outside of the wall today?”

He looked uneasy by the idea and it was quite obvious he did not like that idea. Anything was bound to happen outside the safety of our wall. He knew only too well how a simple supply run could turn deadly in a matter of moments.

I tried to be the voice of reason for him as he stared at me with growing worry. “Dad, I can’t stay grounded and locked up behind the walls for my whole life. If I’m with you I’ll be safe. We won’t go far and if we see walkers we can turn right around.”

He seemed to be debating it carefully before he finally sighed. “Alright. We can go out today. One hour and then back home.”

Before we had gone in the woods, my dad stopped to give me something. It had been meant as a birthday present but he withheld it when he found out what I had done.

“If we’re going in there it’s as good a time as any to give it to you now.” He announced, putting it in my hands.

I unwrapped the paper to find a brand new slingshot, a holster and a pouch of pellets. After he had found out what I’d done he assumed I may have taken it as a message to disregard my punishment and go out of the walls anyways.

It was a beautiful gift and I was floored to receive it. I had been going about carrying my slingshot in nothing but my pocket while I stuffed smooth river rocks in my other one, but this polished one made it look like I meant business.

It was the best present I’d gotten.

“Thank you so much!” I announced, throwing my arms around him. “It was worth the wait.”

“I’ll want to make sure it works out alright.” He told me, rubbing my back.

The old self-made slingshot proved no match for a specially crafted one and my skill was even better with a proper weapon. I killed two rabbits from twenty yards away and wounded a turkey. Dad looked impressed by it all and asked how I got so skilled.

“Practice.” I announced. Dad had seen me plenty of times around town firing away at empty cans and other targets. Any time I wasn’t in the woods, being tutored, or doing chores I was practicing. Daryl was the one to give me my first slingshot ever.

“You practice a lot?” My dad asked, bringing me back to the present.

“As often as I can.”

“Bet that comes in handy, doesn’t it, Elf?”

My back stiffened and I finished tying the knot around the ankles of the dead animals. Even though I knew he knew the truth it still took me off guard when he called me by that name.

“When did you figure it out?” I asked as we stood to walk down a path. My dad took the animals from me and carried them.

“It took a while but I caught on eventually.”

“And it wasn’t because Negan told you?”

“He gave you away but didn’t tell me directly. I started to figure some things out when he asked about you.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Michonne and I have talked about it.”

“How ‘bout Carl?”

“You know Carl,” Dad sighed. “He doesn’t talk very much so I can’t be all too certain sometimes.”

“You’re taking it surprisingly well.” I said kicking a rock and watching it skid across our path.

“Well it’s been what—three years since we first knew about the elf and in all that time you’ve somehow managed to handle yourself without disappearing without a trace or returning with life-threatening wounds. I’m not sure how you’ve done it but I think we could all use a lesson from you. In fact, where did you get those medicinal supplies? Where did you find all of it?”

There was nothing I could say. There was too much to explain and it would take time for him to understand. I took his hand by that, holding it carefully as we walked.

“Dad… I know you said just an hour today, but there’s something I want to show you and I don’t think an hour is going to be enough.”

When we reached the shrine, his reaction towards it was much the way Enid’s had been the first time. The mist lingered over it just as it’d done that day as well, creating the image of a haunted cemetery.

Dad hesitated but I took his hand and led him into the stone crowd. He wouldn’t have gone in otherwise. The statues scared even my father, who had seen so much horror in his life it was amazing that anything would surprise him these days.

We crossed the stone bridge and I jumped down into the hidden boat before he realized there was something to catch me going into the water. I urged him in and he jumped clumsily aboard then sat while I pulled the rope to move us.

The runes stones passed us as we drifted and then my father caught sight of the frozen dead reaching out of the waters.

“Judith…”

“Don’t worry,” I told him, “we’re almost there. This is just to scare outsiders away.”

The fog only began dissipated once we reached the shore and even then it was still fairly thick. As we walked up the path though, it thinned out, revealing the beautiful place I’d been banned from visiting for an entire month. I looked up to watch my dad’s expression and when he looked around he was in awe.

I watched his eyes slowly begin to take it all in; the flowers, the statues, the stone ruins of the cathedral, the spring ponds, and the witch’s cottage.

“Judith, where are we?”

“A secret garden.” I told him, gripping my hands behind my back as we both looked at it. “I come here to get away and to make things that’ll help everyone.”

“You made that stuff?”

I shrugged. “Well I had some help from Enid and… someone else.”

And before I could stop myself I began to tell and show him everything. We went inside and I flipped through the books of herbal plants, remedies, soaps, lotions, teas, and salves. I even showed him the spell books I had poured over, trying several to test the results of them. Most weren’t that effective but the protection and sweet dream spells had relatively promising results. He didn’t laugh or scoff or shut me down like I partially expected him to. He listened, interrupting only to ask me the occasional question.

Then I showed him the property, the length of the island, its features and the flowing springs that bubbled out of it, the garden, which was a little unkempt since it’d been so long since I was there. If it weren’t for Enid’s help it would have been entirely overgrown.

And then I showed him Vanessa’s grave.

He along with everyone knew I occasionally saw our dead friends sometimes. The witch though… it was another story entirely.

“And she’s taught me all about plants from the wild that can be eaten.” I told him. “It’s just a little hard to remember which ones. They’re so tricky. One small slip up and it’s curtains! Usually I have to check a few times with a book, and she can get mad if I don’t memorize them right. She says I won’t always have the book and I need to remember on my own.”

“Was she turned when you found her body?”

“Yes.”

He looked worried, but steadied once it occurred to him that I hadn’t been harmed if it meant I was standing in front of him now. “How did you kill her?”

“There’s a revolver upstairs. I used that to shoot her. It took three tries till I got her in the cheek.”

“Not bad…” he said. “Was she coming after you?”

I shook my head. “She always teaches me something new, but the first time was the hardest. When I came back over the next few weeks she showed me how to set snares. Most of the animals died before we got there but when we found a rabbit alive once, I had to break its neck and… and it was terrible. I mean I knew I had to do it because that’s how we eat and that’s how we live, but that… I still hated it.” I could hear the words as I was telling him about this and I could barely believe myself. My hand slapped my face and I groaned in self-disgust.

“I’m sorry I’m whining about that. I’ve no right to say things like that to you, of all people in the world.”

“Judith, you’re my daughter. You have every right to come to me with those problems, and I’m supposed to help you through them like I’m supposed to.”

“…No, I don’t.” I said firmly, studying a spider between two garden decorations as it trapped a fly in its web. “I don’t need to pile up my problems onto you when you’ve got bigger things to worry about. I’m not dumb. I’m just a kid and no one expects anything from me right now. But you’ve got the whole town to worry about and everything just keeps piling up, and it’s just not fair for you.”

With those words he bent down to my level and looked me in the eye. “Judith, everything that I’ve done, I’ve done for you and Carl. I’ve protected you, guided you, and taught you the best that I am able to do. If you only have to worry about killing rabbits to feed our people, the people you love, that’s an enormous relief to me. Because it means I’m doing my job right.”

My eyes watered when he said that, but I held them back, promising not to cry in front of him.

“Can you tell me one thing though?”

“What?”

“When did you get to be so grown up?” He actually smiled just then and looked around at the green growing land. “Seeing this place, and seeing all you’ve done to contribute to our people… I think it’s the first sign I’ve had telling me that I’m doing something right for once.”

Sometime around noon we took a seat on the flowery grass and just talked, or rather I mostly talked. I told him about all the places I had found for foraging, my favorite fishing sights, snaring paths, the best weeds to use for medicine, and all the statues I had named while on the island. It seemed like I talked on and on. Dad didn’t say much, just listened intently holding a soft smile as he looked down at me. I wasn’t sure if I had bored him or not but he eventually spread out over the grass and closed his eyes.

“Go ahead and keep talking,” He murmured. “I’m listening. I’m just resting my eyes for a moment.”

He listened patiently as I kept on and after a while I looked back to see the steady rise and fall of his chest and knew he really was asleep this time. I wondered if it would do any good to keep talking and decided to just lie back, making myself comfortable in the crook of his arm.

It was a rare occasion when my father truly felt relaxed and maybe for that small moment he even felt safe. As long as he was with me, we at least wouldn’t need to worry about walkers. He could count on me to keep all of them away.

At least those monsters I could protect him from.

* * *

Out of nowhere, I felt something jolt right out from under me. The solid warm pillow my head had been resting on was tugged right out from under my head and left me to smack back down on the less soft mound of grass. I looked around blearily, wondering what had happened.

I had just been in the middle of a pretty spectacular dream about a rainbow jellyfish in a sea of golden water that bubbled like campaign.

When I caught sight of the thing that had roused me I saw my father, sitting straight up and panting heavily.

A nightmare; I’d recognized one of his anywhere. It seemed that not even this place could keep his demons at bay for very long.

He held his chest as he tried to settle his frantic heart.

“Dad?”

He turned, as if realizing I was there for the first time.

“Judith, where…?” His eyes drifted around, taking in the sight of the strange place. He had forgotten where he was as he had slept.

“We’re on the island,” I explained carefully, “remember?”

“I—I thought for a moment… it had only been a dream at first, and then...” He trailed off looking around as he wiped the sweat off of his brow.

I sat up, sitting cross-legged and yawned. “No it’s real. It wasn’t a dream.”

He still didn’t look convinced though.

“No one was here a moment ago, were they?”

Now I understood what his dream may have been about. Had he thought a walker was standing over us, or Negan had arrived from out of nowhere? I shook my head, wiping the crust from my eyes. “No, it’s just us. Pretty sure it’s just us, at least.”

He breathed in relief once more and finally settled back.

“Do you need to talk about it?” I asked.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

I didn’t press; if he wanted to talk he would talk. Instead I looked around at the flowers that grew around us. “The poppies make people sleepy.” I said, lying down and resting my head in the crook of his arm once more.

“Yeah, I knew they did that.” He breathed deep, closing his eyes as he let the smells of the garden fill him. “This is a wonderful place, Judith. I can tell already, it’s good and protected.”

“Yeah.”

“If you’re okay with it, I’d like to keep it as secret as we possibly can.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” Then I looked up at him, brows lowering in concern. “I want you to trust me again, Dad. I want to not be grounded anymore so I can do my job. ‘Cause this is my job. You have a job—everyone has a job and this is mine. Please let me do my job, Dad.”

There was no sound except the birds chirping and the insects buzzing.

“Alright.” He said finally. “This is your job, then.”

We walked in silence back home for most of the trip, but after a while something seemed to press at Dad and he broke the silence.

“When you’re out here, how do you defend yourself?”

“You mean… how do I keep the walkers away?”

“More or less.”

I kicked a rock and stuffed my fists in my pockets. I always worried how I was going to break this news to him. It was the hardest, biggest secret I held. Bigger even than the garden. Telling it was a different sort of leap. Sure he said he would keep quiet about the garden, but he wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about me. He’d want to do just what Enid suggested and find out why I was this way. I didn’t know what would happen after that; How many people were going to find out? What would they want to do?

I must’ve tensed outwardly and buried my nose inside the collar of my cloak; I often did that when I was nervous or scared.

“Judith…?” My dad said carefully. Maybe I had done more than tensed up because I felt his hand on my shoulder just then. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” I said. I was breathing heavily. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

I stayed quiet for too long, searching his expression for something that would tell me all I needed to know. There was a flicker—a moment where his expression changed. A spike of fear shot through me and I fearfully shook my head.

“No... no I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Is it about the walkers?”

“Yes.” I answered.

He proceeded with caution, noticing how I had suddenly worked myself up. “I just want to know how you handle them, Judith. That’s all. I’ll let you be out here but only if I know you can defend yourself.”

He looked at me and I could tell he meant it.

“Do you run from them?”

I didn’t know what to say or how to answer him. “Well… they don’t… that’s to say… I’m not…” Then I gave up and nodded. “Yes. Yes I run from them.” It was the simplest and safest answer to give him. “I’m not a coward!” I said instantly feeling he might’ve thought I was weak by saying so. “And I _do_ know how to kill them, but most are taller and stronger than me, but they’re slow, too. They’re real slow and stupid, and I’m fast and I know how to lure them away from me.”

“Why don’t you shoot them with your slingshot?”

I didn’t know how to respond by that. Normally once they caught sight of me, they just lumbered away. They weren’t a threat after that, but I had to say something.

“I… don’t like wasting my ammo, not unless it’s totally necessary.” I decided.

My answer didn’t please him, but it looked like he bought it. “I think you need to sort out your priorities, Judith.” He said sternly. “I know you’re capable of killing them, but I think you don’t quite understand the value of life over a pellet. If you see a walker, you put it out of its misery. Not just because it’s a danger to you, but because it’s a danger to others as well. Imagine if a walker you had the chance to kill escaped to kill one of our friends instead. How do you think you’d feel about that?”

The thought made my mouth dry. “I… I’d feel terrible and responsible.”

“Exactly.” He said. “So before we go back I want to see you take one down on your own. I’m not letting you out here again until I know you can do it.”

We didn’t have to go far to find one. In just five minutes there were two of them that we spotted through the foliage.

Dad steered me within their sight and jerked his head towards them expectantly.

The two turned towards us but didn’t move closer and I knew why. Thinking quick I took up my new slingshot and aimed. The first went down without a problem. Their skulls were as soft as rotting watermelon shells and their brains were like goo.

But when the second one spotted me it didn’t approach any closer than where it was.

To my Dad’s surprise and my own horror, it began to turn away from us, choosing a new direction. My hands were sweaty and I fumbled with the pellet before it suddenly slipped away from me to the ground. I scrambled for another one and aimed, but I missed. I tried again, but missed once more.

My dad unfortunately was no longer paying attention to me as he observed this odd behavior. Walkers were supposed to attack anything that moved and this one was ambling away for some reason.

“What the hell.”

I knew he was straining his ears now, wondering if there was a sound in the distance that had caught its interest now, but we heard nothing.

My heart was beating fast and I was consciously aware that I needed to gain control of this situation. I aimed again, but my father put his hand on mine before I had let loose.

“Wait a moment. I want to see what’s going on here.”

_No no no! I don’t want you to!_

A cold sweat broke out on my neck and I stared back from my father to the lumbering dead body. It didn’t seem like he knew what was going on, but he wasn’t stupid enough not to figure it out in time.

Against his wishes I aimed and fired at the walker while its back was towards us. It went down without a problem.

My dad rounded on me. “Judith, I asked you not to fire.”

“But I thought that’s what I was supposed to do.”

“Yes but I wanted to know what distracted it.”

“Why does it matter?” I tested irritably.

“Because now I don’t know if we’re alone out here or not.”

By that we both stopped dead and listened carefully. But there was no sound and nothing moved. Then another moan broke through and we both turned to see a third walker off in the distance ambling towards us. My dad waited but this one didn’t turn back. They usually didn’t until they were closer.

“Can I get that one at least?”

He paused, waiting to see if it would turn back, but it kept forward for another few feet.

“Alright then.”

I stepped up and didn’t give it a chance to turn around before I fired away. Being a little more confident helped. Confident firing always had the best results.

It fell down in one blow and my father nodded approvingly. “Alright. I’m convinced now. Looks like you know how to handle yourself well enough.”

I swallowed in relief. My secret was still safe and I was still scared to death someone was going to discover it.

* * *

 

**Author's Notes: I forgot to mention from Chapter 6 The Radio Host, that the two songs that Bianca played when waiting to hear back from the crashed astronauts was "Rage" written by Dylan Thomas and read by Anthony Hopkins. I thought the Interstellar soundtrack would be appropriate and would add to the suspense. The second is "Saturn" by Sleeping at Last. It has a quiet somber tune that seems, in a way, extremely hopeful and sad at the same time, like a ballad for a fallen hero who lived a beautiful life but died tragically. If you listen to it close enough it's a song that almost brings tears to your eyes from either joy or sorrow or maybe both.**

**If you guys have any particular thoughts or comments I would love to read your reviews.**

**Also I wanted to start some drabbles for this story. It would be a separate piece of writing from this initial story but centered around Judith since she's my main character in all this. Just small scenes or oneshots to kind of expand this story a little. If anyone has any suggestions or scenes they would be interested in reading I'd be interested in hearing your thoughts and I could see how they would work.**


	11. Hrunting is Shattered

**Chapter 11  
Hrunting is Shattered**

Vanessa continued to teach me. Her thoughts on my father's visit to the island were kept to herself, and whether she approved or not was no longer an option for her. But I was still interested in her thoughts, no matter what she told me.

"I believe your father will do what he thinks is right to protect your people. If he feels the island might help them he'll do what he has to. But he knows that's not his right. He'll ask you first."

"You think?"

"I do actually."

I smiled in relief and turned back to the lesson about knots.

It wasn't just time spent on the island, though. A lot of my time was used up in the forest gathering and hunting anything and everything I thought might be good.

Three times Negan's men came and went since I had brought my father to the garden. He never told them, in fact he acted a lot of the time like he had no idea there even was a garden. In some ways it felt like my secret was still my secret. My dad knew but he no longer tried to interfere with it. I guess he figured that if I had gone three whole years of wondering the woods without supervision then I could maybe continue to do it safely.

On their fourth visit I went out and took Sheriff with me. It was the first time he'd been outside of the walls since I brought him to Alexandria. He was such an energetic little puppy and I felt it was as good a time as any to start training him to be a hunter and if not that then maybe I could use him to find truffles. As long as he stayed near me, the walkers wouldn't bother us. _I_ was much too scary to them to risk a puppy snack.

We went fishing and caught a massive trout—well more like _I_ wrestled it into submission. I was checking the fishing nets and wonder of all there it was, tangled up and looking good enough to eat. But then the net tore and the fish worked free. Before I could think I was leaping into the water after it. My hand caught on its tail and pulled. It was slimy and gross and slippery but I wouldn't release. The thing was almost as strong as I was and half my own size. It splashed furiously and at one point it slapped me with its own fin. I managed to drag it to shore and got a knife in its head, ceasing it's thrashing for good.

Sheriff had barked energetically at the sight of the tousle, but had otherwise been no help with it at all. It was fine, though. He would learn.

The trout was a beauty; green as glass, with an orange underbelly and dark black spots like river pebbles. It was the kind of thing men bragged about in old fishing stories. I folded it up in old magazine papers and set it inside my new basket pack. It was pretty heavy but I didn't mind.

Earlier we had checked the snares, caught two wild quails and a pheasant, picked blackberries, greens, and gathered truffles we could roast or stew. Even soaked to the bone, I felt pretty good with myself and all but skipped as we went back with Sheriff padding beside me.

I would have even sung if I knew any good songs, but the only one I knew right then by heart was Dear God and I didn't feel like bringing myself down at the moment.

So I decided to make up a song on the spot.

"The bodies rot  
The bodies walk  
and wander in the woods

No matter where those bodies go  
They'll wander on for good

Don't shoot the gun  
It's just no fun  
When bodies hear that call

You better run  
Or else you're done  
They'll munch you one and all

Hit their head  
then go to bed  
Don't worry once they're still

But if bodies walk  
Don't try to talk  
Just spear their skulls with drills

Stay up too late  
But close that gate  
Or the bodies wander in

When bodies start that wanderin'  
They eat you for their din!"

I liked my made up song and sang the tune over again several times. The lyrics were grim, but I sang it like I was singing a nursery rhyme; after all, poetry like that had originally been based off of hard truths, or so I heard from other adults. Mother Goose was a breeder for subliminal messages. And who knew? In the future it could have been used as a teaching mechanism for small children… assuming there would be children in the future. Often it felt like I was the only child in the world at times.

The thought earned a hard shake from my head. I didn't want to think like that right now. It was such a pretty day and I didn't want to waste it by being sad.

But no matter how hard I tried, that figurative rain cloud hovered over me nonstop. I was constantly reminded of Negan's current visit and knew I couldn't go back home till he was gone, so I lingered a bit, deciding to visit my favorite meadow. I picked wildflowers and made two crowns, one for me and one for Sheriff. I played with him a bit, fawning over him obsessively like a new mother with her baby.

When I put the ring of flowers on him something in me imploded by the adorably precious sight of him, and I gushed. "Who is the cutest little Sheriff in the whole world?" I said in a high-pitched baby voice as I snuggled him. "That right, you are!" He panted happily and licked at one of the flowers.

After a while our attentions turned to watch a tortoise amble through the grass.

Sheriff stared at the odd creature, following its slow path and walking beside it in deep curiosity. I could practically hear his puppy thoughts as he studied this alien. "What are you? Why are you so slow? How come you have no fur? Why do you have a helmet on your back? What's your name? Do you want to play? Play with me! You'll love playing with me! I'm good at playing!"

My first thought at the sight of it was turtle soup, but for some reason I stayed my hand. It just didn't feel sporting somehow. It was so slow, and I already had a pheasant, two quails and a large trout; there was no call to kill if it I didn't have to.

Besides, I had nothing to do for a while, might as well let them entertain me. I rolled on my stomach as I watched it but then something moved sharply and the moan of a walker cut through all sound—well half a walker I supposed. Its legs and bottom half was entirely gone as it tried to crawl forward. Sheriff yelped in surprise and sprinted back to me, burying his snout in my stomach as he sought protection from his mama. When its dead eyes scanned towards me though, it moaned once then dragged its broken corpse in another direction.

The puppy whimpered and I hugged him close, showing him there was nothing to be afraid of. Then I spoke to him. "It's okay, everything is fine. It won't come near us now. As long as you stay near me, nothing bad will get you." And with those words we watched it disappear into the grass. Then I looked around as if searching for listeners in the woods before I turned back to the little one in my arms.

"If I share a secret with you do you promise not to tell, Sheriff? I mean I know you're straight as a line being a servant of the law and all, but maybe you can bend the rules this one time." I winked to him and he huffed adorably. "There's a reason they don't come near me. Would you like to know why?" My voice lowered to a cryptic hush. "It's because I'm a _scary_ witch. That's right. Your mama is a witch! I can do magic and cast spells and find things that no one else can find. My teacher is an even scarier witch than I am, but I'm not sure if you'll see her, because only her spirit remains now."

I lied back in the grass, stroking the soft spot of my dog's ear as he settled on top of my stomach.

"I see other people, too, but not like the witch. She has magical powers that let her come back and teach me things whenever I visit her house. But sometimes I see our friends, the ones who have passed away. Only they don't usually stay for very long. They come and go as they wish. I hear it's bad for them to stay for so long, but their business isn't over. If they've got responsibilities that aren't over before they die, they stay to carry them out or get someone to do it for them."

"All of them are different. There's this one." And I pulled my chain from my neck to show him the charms, pointing at the music note. "She's like an angel. At night I hear her singing and it's prettier than all the birds out here. Then there's this one." I pointed to the anchor. "This one is like a navigator and tells the best stories and didn't let any of the bad change him before he left." Then I pointed to the silver wings. "And this one… This is my mom. When I was really little she came to me almost every night, but her visits have grown few and far apart. Sometimes it feels like… I can't see them as well as I used to."

A pang of sorrow hit me just then as I looked at the little thing in my lap and I embraced him. "I'm sorry for your family." I said, blinking back tears. "I'm sorry I didn't get there in time before they were all…" I sniffed unable to say the last part. "They didn't like me and would've eaten me probably if I wasn't so fast, but they would've loved you and your siblings just as much as I do. Maybe your brother wouldn't have died then. Maybe they would've raised you better than me. But I'm gunna tell you about them. I'm gunna make sure you know your blood."

My grip on him tightened slightly as my voice growled angrily at the thought of lineage. "There are whispers I hear sometimes that say I'm… I'm not my dad's. They say I'm someone else's. Someone called Shane comes at times and says those things. _But they're lies_!" I hissed at the puppy. "Even Dad thinks it sometimes, but it's not true! I can feel it down to my marrow that it's not true. He _is_ my father, inside and out. I know he is, because I'm stronger than most people, I'm stubborn and resourceful and smart. And I'm only able to be those things because he's part of me!"

I growled at the images of a shadow in my room whispering those things that scared me less than made me blind with fury. "I'll prove my blood!" I hissed determinedly. "If I have to wade through all the crap Dad's been through himself to prove it without a doubt, I'll do it! But no one tells me I'm not Rick's! No one! It's like… like if someone said one of your parents was a poodle instead of a wolf. You'd never want to be a poodle. Never! That wolf is in you every bit! Not some dumb poodle!"

I couldn't expect the puppy to understand, but he seemed to sense the turmoil raging in his mama enough to realize I needed comforting. He curled up in my lap and licked at my arm till I calmed down enough to ease my hold on him.

The wind billowed and we were both quiet after that. My gaze swept up to watch the clouds, finding pictures as we sat there.

After a decent amount of time I finally decided it was time to go but Sheriff seemed a little less eager to leave while I swung my pack on my shoulders. It was hard to tear him away from the lovely meadow but I merely picked him up and carried him a decent distance away before setting him down again and ordering him to follow. He was damn disobedient but another fright from a walker had him running back to me for safety.

I still wore the crown of flowers and carried a bouquet, thinking I'd give it to Michonne when I got back. I had heard that's what people used to do back then, and when was the last time she had a present like that? I thought it might've been nice to surprise her.

I was still lost in thought though. I hadn't even realized there was so much bothering me till I unloaded some of those worries to the puppy beside me. He couldn't understand it, but it was nice to relieve some of it to a living being that wouldn't reprimand me for being stupid or pathetic or crazy.

God why weren't there more dogs instead of people in the world?

As I neared the outskirts the sudden blast of a gunshot broke through all sound in the forest and my heart leapt in my throat. None of us had guns anymore so it could only have meant the Saviors had attacked. I took only a moment to bend down and grab the puppy before I started to sprint, reaching the gate in a panic and brushing through the convoy of trucks and men, silent and quick, even with my pack and a dog.

There were several sounds of surprise at my entrance, as if a little kid silently streaking by was one of the last things they had been expecting. I paid none of them any mind though as I circled the town, trying to track where the blast had come from. The puppy in my arms was fussy and I gathered enough sense to at least drop him off in the sheep pen before continuing my frantic search. Then I heard a commotion coming from Rosita's house. I spotted my father and I couldn't stop myself.

"Dad!" I shouted rushing towards him without thinking. "I heard a gunshot! Is everyone okay?"

He looked startled to see me then suddenly worried as his eyes whipped behind him for the briefest of moments before another voice made both of us stiffen.

"Well hells bells! If it isn't my favorite little Alexandrian."

* * *

I have a confession to make; I've attempted curses before. On more than one occasion I've tried to curse Negan into unimaginable suffering. I mean of course I've tried it. What furious witch with few options wouldn't at least try? Unfortunately, none of them stuck. Not a single one so much as gave him a boil for my troubles. I was so frustrated about it that I cast a spell to see what the hell was going on.

I carefully followed the instructions from the Book of Shadows and drew out the alter as well as prepared the incense required. Inside the adapertio circle with the aroma of the sage, brahmi, and ivy smoke, the world around grew hazy and offset as I slipped into a trancelike dream.

In it I saw a bright white figure pulsing with magic so tangible I had never felt its equal to in all my life. The body seemed to hover near a shadowy outline of someone whose profile I knew all too well. Even if I couldn't see Negan's face I knew it was supposed to be him. I saw that light body next to him quietly fade away, but as it did, Negan's shadowy outline seemed to gain a strange illuminated aura, though his shadow didn't seem to brighten in any way as it surrounded him. In fact, it only darkened more and more, and just as the light from the other body was snuffed out, his outline had become entirely surrounded by the while glow.

With a start I woke up, dazed and confused about what I had seen for a moment. Then the confusion vanished as I somehow understood exactly what my vision had meant and when it hit me, I curled up where I was and beat the ground in rage.

Another witch was protecting him.

I was so furious about all of it! Who the hell was protecting him? Who would care enough about that monster to wrap such a powerful spell around him? And what was even worse was that it was _white magic_. White fucking magic! It was cast out of complete unadulterated love and selflessness. He didn't deserve to have such a powerful generous spell guarding him like that! He was a monster—A MONSTER!

Such a shield of that caliber could not have come from just any average green or kitchen witch. That spell had been bought with the life of someone else and she (I was pretty sure that it was a she) had done it of complete free will.

What poor innocent fool could have been duped by him so entirely to risk such a sacrificial ritual? Not only did he take all we had but he even had an impenetrable magical shield hovering around his aura? This wasn't right! It wasn't fair! How else were we supposed to beat him?

Neither magic, nor wits, nor brute strength seemed to be any match against him. Slowly, very slowly I was beginning to feel like this man may have very well been invincible.

"Cast a curse and you curse two. You curse the enemy and you curse you." That's what Vanessa had taught me after that particular incident proved fruitless. But all I ever wanted was to put a curse on him. Every time I had to look at him my mind would return to the numerous jinxes and hexes found within the island cottage.

Those were my thoughts as my mind snapped back to the present.

I shared a looked with my dad when the voice reached our ears and we both grimaced, turning at the same time to watch Negan exiting the house. His face became immediately interested the moment he caught sight of me. With his approach all I wanted to do was retreat but with one glance at my father I knew that I wouldn't do that. I'd stay to be his strength.

Dad was afraid of him, I knew he was; not of what Negan could do to him exactly, but what he could do to our people. Though he did his best to conceal it, choosing an unemotional expression as a mask, I knew better. Maybe deep down I was afraid of him, too, but it was wrong to lean against someone who was far more damaged from him than me. I could face him—I _would_ face him with dignity and resolve. He wasn't going to intimidate me again. Not here.

Here I'd be strong for my father. I'd put aside that fear. For now I'd pretend he could do no more harm to me than a black bear, but even as I thought that I could see the illogical part of that idea. I could run from bears, or play dead, or climb trees to escape them and there was a great unlikelihood that they would try to shoot me if I ran.

At that moment I had a mental image of a hairy black bear holding a machine gun and firing wildly. I would have almost chuckled at the imagery but I caught sight of Negan's white teeth and it died before it lived.

"Lookit here!" He said stepping towards me. "Judy! I thought I'd never have the chance to see you again."

I detested the shortened version of my name and when it came from him it was worse times one hundred!

"I really thought I'd never see you again either." I countered back in a sarcastic tone.

"It just seems that every time I make a house call, you're out."

"Yeah well every time I smell something bad on the horizon I need to get some fresh air."

"Judith!" My dad smacked my head, angry for my cheek. "Mind your manners." He said sternly.

My head smarted but I held my tong, rubbing at the spot.

"Playing in the woods again, princess?" he pointed to my flower crown and my cheeks went bright red as I realized I was still wearing it.

"No!" I snapped pulling it off my head immediately and tossing it away. "I was working! Some people still do that!"

"Curious." Negan said, ignoring the jab I made. "What do you do out there on your own?"

"Just… stuff." I muttered, openly neglecting to go into detail. "And things."

"Really?" Then he smacked his head as if he'd just remembered something. "Oh right! I'm sorry about that! I might've accidentally let slip the fact that you wanted to keep those visits secret from your daddy."

"Doesn't matter either way." I shrugged, pretending to feel indifferent about the idea, but deep down I was still angry he'd been careless—the rat! "He already figured it out without your help, because he's smart!"

The way he talked was like he didn't see my father was literally standing right there.

"You know I'm very sorry your father found out about that and about our meeting out there." By that I could feel dad's hand on my shoulder tighten slightly. I knew he wanted me out of the way right now, away from the predator's gaze, but both of us knew I couldn't run right now. Negan wanted me to stay put right where I was.

"That was supposed to be our little secret."

"Well I'm an open book," I announced boldly. " _No_ secrets here."

That peaked his interest. "Really?"

I smiled contemptuously, "Really, really."

He pointed to my pack. "Then you wouldn't mind showing off what you found out there."

My head would have bent backward in exasperation and I wanted to groan inwardly. Why oh why didn't I think to stash it somewhere outside the walls where the Saviors and Negan wouldn't see it? I managed to stash the puppy! Now he was going to take this small bit I had scrounged up for a somewhat decent meal tonight!

My hands tightened slightly around the straps and I hesitated for a long moment, taking a step back in aversion. Then my father nudged me insistently and I knew I had no choice.

A defeated sigh left my body and I swung my pack around to show him the contents.

"Road kill, weeds, fungi, and a bottom feeder." I announced, hoping beyond hope it would disinterest him.

My father was getting impatient with me. "Judith."

"Your daughter has an attitude problem." Negan said looking dangerous as he turned to my dad for the first time since I arrived. "It better be resolved the next time I visit."

He words seem to light a spark under Dad just then and he looked back at Negan in challenge. If there was one thing he wouldn't stand for is threats towards his kids.

"Careful, Rick." Negan said dangerously low. "Careful about how you look at me. It'd be traumatizing if I needed to straighten you out in front of your daughter. But maybe you've forgotten what it felt like."

My heartbeat picked up and I was suddenly afraid. At the same time Dad lowered his eyes and his expression melted back into his unemotional mask. It was painful to see him so cowed and I hated myself for rushing in so blindly to witness this.

Then suddenly Negan's hand was on top of my scalp, patting it affectionately and shaking me slightly. "Although, I suppose you should be proud of her. Already able to wander around in the woods without so much as a chaperone. She'll be a large asset to your people, I bet. I mean, it looks like she already is, if she's capable of bringing home the bacon at her age."

I hated his hand on my head. It was large and took up nearly my entire scalp. I felt dirty every time I was so much as near him and all I wanted was to hop in the shower and scrub myself raw.

"And since you're such an opened book, why don't you and I have a little chat, honey." Just then his hand moved to my shoulder and he pushed passed my dad as he steered me around town. I glanced around back towards his expression and saw a look of concern and offense cross his face at Negan's dick move. He was very torn between throwing himself between me and the warlord but doing that was just going to makes things more dangerous for us. The most he could do was stay close and follow, watching carefully for a threat and then intervene when necessary.

I felt a surge of resolve and turned forward. I could do this. I was my father's daughter; I grew up listening to stories about his travels and trials. The things he'd been through were scarier than this.

I could do this.

My expression rearranged to attempt something unemotional like what my dad adopted in Negan's presence, but I felt I may not have been succeeding with that. It was hard and I had new respect for my father for managing it so well. There was no feeling I felt more strongly now than disgust and it must've been obvious on my face. So I kept it forward, deciding not to look at Negan if I could help it. All the while I was distinctly aware of his hand on my shoulder, the weight and the strength of his grip and what that hand could do to me.

I shoved those thoughts aside, though.

_Don't think about that_ , I told myself. _You'll lose your nerve otherwise._

I still had my pack held in front of me, but it looked like Negan was busy with other thoughts so I swung it back over my shoulder, the one his hand wasn't on.

While we walked, I kept my eyes on the pavement, knowing that if I looked up I'd be enraged to find Negan's thugs looting us left and right once again. I kept it down, but the fury in me wouldn't dispel. If anything it seemed to increase. Then all of a sudden I felt a new presence just then; something familiar but cold and angry.

It was a spirit. I was sure of it, but this wasn't like how they normally felt, even if I knew this one very well.

" _Glenn_?" I murmured softly enough not to be heard.

My fear spiked at that. This wasn't what he was supposed to feel like. Not like this. I could feel his anger pulsing beside me like a storm cloud. I felt it long before it clicked what was going on.

Glenn was becoming vengeful and I could practically feel his words hissing over and over in my head.

_It was him! It was him! He did it! Killed us both! Shattered Rick! Threatened our family! Beat our people! The ambush! It was him!_

I suddenly felt something hot on my neck, in the place where one of the charms rested on my collarbone, not enough to burn—yet, but enough to notice and set me on edge.

I shivered involuntary and Negan brought me back to the present.

"Cold, sweetie?"

I nearly gagged when he called me by the endearment and had to stifle a second shiver. "No, just felt like a _spider_ was on me for a minute."

His hand squeezed me through my cloak, as either a threat or a warning.

"How's life here for you?"

Was he making small talk?

"Well I'm still here. So life is fine. Why? You wanna live here?" As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn't.

"That's sounds tempting." He chimed sounding as though he were deeply considering it. "It's a nice place. Good buildings, good people, and I'm sure you'll all give me and my men your best."

I scrambled to discourage him. "Your pallet's finer than ours," I muttered, "I'm not sure you'd be very impressed with our best."

He barked a laugh and I decided then and there that it was an annoying and arrogant sound.

"Maybe you're right. It's sure not what we're used to. After all, you don't even have proper beds."

By those words the cold was suddenly back and something in me wanted to roar with fury. I had to physically stop myself from shouting a string of insults bursting to get out of my mouth. My head twitched involuntarily, perhaps making it look like I was trying to pop my neck when really it felt like there was something tickling under my spine. Ice suddenly rushed through my veins and this time I really couldn't stop the shiver from surfacing.

It felt as though something or someone was trying to… puppet me.

_Glenn? What are you doing?_ I thought in horror.

Because I knew it was Glenn even if this was exactly the kind of thing he would never do in life. But death could alter a spirit greatly and even the gentlest and most forgiving of all souls could turn dark if their demise was as atrocious as what Glenn had to endure.

Negan saw my reaction and removed his hand curiously.

"Something wrong?"

"Spider." I said quickly, shaking my cloak for added affect. Much to my surprise a large brown spider really did drop from the folds. My eyes grew wide as plates and I might've croaked a bit at the sight of it.

That sucker was huge.

Negan didn't even wait. His boot was on it the next second. There was a sickening slimy crunch and my face twisted in a flinch.

I wouldn't have killed it. Spiders were revered to my studies with Vanessa and were considered good omens. Even though I wasn't fond of them, it hadn't bit me and she would have been disappointed in me if I went killing a spider without just cause. I would never find the guts to ever hold one, but I could live with one living on my windowsill, provided it stayed there and didn't hang out somewhere I was going to lay down. Yeah I could tolerate spiders.

Snakes, on the other hand, were another question entirely. They were sick little limbless monsters whose existences shouldn't have been possible! I hated them!

Negan twisted his foot over the goo of what was left of the spider, wiping his boot clean on the pavement.

"Damn that sucker was big." He announced putting his hands on his hips. "Did it bite cha?"

I shook my head, doubtful he was all concerned either way.

"Lucky I got it. You bring in all kinds of things from the forest, now don't cha?"

I wasn't sure how to respond by that so I said nothing.

"You know I was looking in your pack and I gotta say, the size of that trout is pretty darn impressive. It's not every person that can catch a fish that big, especially someone of your size." He looked me up and down, from my twiggy arms, my wispy short side ponytail, and my bony little legs that looked even more pathetic swimming in my brown cowgirl boots. "I had a grandfather when I was young used to tell me old stories about this massive catfish monster that used to taunt him and his fishing buddies on the Mississippi. You know those things can grow bigger than a crocodile?"

My brow lowered and I stepped away. "Don't mock me! I might be a kid but I'm not gullible enough to believe something like that. No freshwater fish could possibly grow that big."

He grinned again, amused by my disbelief. "But they do. Some grow so large they could be mistaken for small whales. They can even leap out of the water and eat birds, cats, dogs, and in extreme cases, people even."

I glared. He was making fun of me and I knew it. Although to be totally honest I was firm to assume that everything he told me was going to be a lie no matter what. Because that's what he was—a big liar!

"I saw the quail in there and those truffles. That's a meal for kings, kid."

Just then an idea popped into my head from out of nowhere. I'm not sure what possessed me exactly—well actually I did and his name was Glenn. But I knew either way Negan would take my pack, even so maybe there was a way I could still get something out of it.

"I'll sell it to you." I blurted suddenly.

His eyes rose in amusement. "You want to sell me your road kill and weeds?

"You just said it was a meal for kings." I countered.

He leaned against a fence and chuckled. We all knew he could take it and I'd get nothing, but out of amusement and curiosity he humored me. "Alright, Judy, what do you want?"

I looked him dead in the eye, taking care to hold it without blinking. "I want your bat."

His brow rose in surprise as he looked at me. "You want my Lucille? Out of everything else I've got? Why?"

"I think it'll improve my swing." I answered.

"Lucille's worth more than that whole pack. If you're looking to trade you've gotta sweeten the deal, sweetheart. And even after that I'm only going to let you hold her."

"Fine, what else do you want?"

"Well since I'll be without my weapon I think I want yours."

He pointed down to my slingshot, holster and pouch of pellets. A stab of anger ran through me, but I closed my eyes, aware that it had been doubtful he would have sold it to me so easily. Dad would be so disappointed that I'd given his birthday gift away, but I reminded myself that it'd be worth it.

"Deal!" And I swung the pack off, whipping out the holster, pouch, and slingshot. A Savior passed and I put it all in his arms.

Then Negan called over my father. "Your daughter just traded to take Lucille off your hands."

He looked stunned and disappointed just like I had predicted, but he handed it over to me. It was half my size and weight and the knob was hot and sweaty where my father had kept hold on it.

I took it and looked down at it blankly. I had never bought anything before; I wasn't sure how it worked or if there was more to it than exchanging goods like so. "Is that it then? Is the transaction over?"

He shrugged. "I suppose we're done."

With that, ice lit under my skin and I felt someone take the reins from me. My body felt like a machine that someone accessed through a remote control. I turned, dragging the bat's base in the dirt as I marched forward.

My father followed behind uneasily. "Judith…"

When the idea had crossed my mind to trade for it I thought perhaps I could throw it tonight in our fireplace and we'd all watch it burn to ashes. But Glenn seemed to have different plans.

_I want him to see! I want him to watch it destroyed._

He carried my legs to the lake and my instincts were to struggle at the sight of the body. The last thing I wanted was to poison the water with that evil thing, but he didn't let me stop or even slow.

_I! Want! It! Gone!_

My arms drew back and before my father could stop what I was doing, a burst of unnatural strength shot through me, the bat swung hard and left my hands.

It sailed, farther and higher than should have been possible. I heard someone call out in disbelief as they watched its progress.

"Oh my god!"

From the strength and distance it flew, it was not going to land in the lake after all. It spun when I released it, gaining at least fifty feet in the air before it began to slow. As its altitude dropped it began to level out so that the barrel pointed to the ground. Then it fell so fast it was like everything had been in slow motion before I blinked.

The cap hit the pavement and there was an echoing "CRACK!" all through town. Upon impact, it burst into pieces and the barbed wire that wrapped around it unfurled like a thorny whip with a metallic ringing "TWANG".

There was a deafening silence all through those who had witnessed the symbol of our oppression shatter like the destruction of an ancient weapon from legends. At that moment I felt Glenn's presence leave me and as I felt my body being returned to me he left a doomed terror in his wake.

What did I do?

"Ho… lee… shit!"

Holy shit was right. I thought he would want to just throw the thing in the lake, not clear across it where it could explode on the pavement like a freaking firecracker!

"Holy shit!" Someone shouted again. "Oh my god! Did that… oh my god! Oh my god! A kid threw that! A fucking kid, man! Negan, did you see—,"

He was cut off as a fist slammed hard into his jaw. I jumped and saw Negan standing over the one who'd been freaking out insistently over the toss. Before I could blink my father was in front of me, keeping himself firmly between me and the enraged monster.

Negan looked positively livid, but then his expression changed very drastically and his shark eyes turned to survey me with a hungry interest.

"Strong kid you've been raising," He said invading Rick's personal space. "Jesus-fucking-Christ! What on earth do you feed her? I think I want some of it."

"N-Negan, you traded with her." Dad stated hastily, trying to get him to see reason. "You traded with her fair and square."

"I did, didn't I?" He said lowly. There was a wild fire in his eyes and my father looked as if he was deeply concerned he was about to burn me up at the sight of it. "Normally I would need to kill someone for that. Maybe a few people, and if I weren't so fucking impressed right now it'd be a long day for Miss Judith." I shivered and gripped my father's sleeve looking round him back towards the monster. "You seem to breed them well, don't you, Rick? Your son's a badass junior and your daughter could be a fucking human weapon with an arm like that. How'd she get that strong?" He demanded shortly.

My father swallowed, not knowing how he should respond so I answered for him.

"Adrenaline rush!" I announced. I didn't think he would buy temporary possession by the pissed off ghost of a man he murdered, as an answer. "Or it could just be because I'm a Grimes and I was brought up well!"

I felt my dad shift beside me and I wondered how he took that last statement.

"A kid your size that can hurl a toss like that didn't do it just by adrenaline or DNA." He said, cocking an eyebrow at me skeptically. "You're no open book. I bet you've got more secrets than the fucking Illuminati, if there are any left."

"I am too an open book." I argued, my voice squeaking a little in fright for what he would do if he began to think otherwise; but then I had to amend it, "I'm… just in a different language."

He smirked by that and turned back to my dad. "Well your daughter is just adorable and a hands-down freak." I felt a stab at being called such a thing; no one ever said things like that about me. _Strange_ maybe— _odd_ certainly, but never freak. His smile grew in a clearly unnerving way. "I think I like her. I want her here **every time** I come for a visit. And I want her finding things for me. You're getting old, Rick, because clearly she's more skilled than you are at this, so maybe it's time you pass the torch to someone else."

Out of nowhere two sharp bangs split the air and my father tumbled over, yelling out in pain and rage. I screamed seeing a spout of blood gush from his thigh and another from his foot as he lost his balance and fell to the pavement.

"Dad!"

I was about to fall next to him, and maybe staunch the bleeding, but before I could an iron grip caught my wrist just then and suspended it above my head, high enough to lift me to my tiptoes.

"Lemme go!" I yelled trying to tug out of Negan's grip on me. My fist punched out, trying to smack him but I made no contact as I struggled.

"LET HER GO!" My father roared, attempting to drag himself onto his one good leg.

"We're not going anywhere, Rick. You can relax, it's not like you can really do much else."

Then he turned to me as I fought to reach up and claw at his face with my only free hand. As terrified as I was that fear was overshadowed in favor of blind stupid fury at seeing my father injured by the thug. "Grr! I'll rip your sideburns off!"

His grip on my hovering arm tightened so hard it would definitely bruise. "Try it brat, and find out where else I can stick a bullet in your dear daddy."

I stilled ever so slightly, but maintained my furious glare on him.

"Your town works for me." He began dark and slow, piercing me with his narrowed eyes. "Your daddy works for me. Your big brother works for me. And now you work for me, too. I want you finding things for me, you understand? You're dad is going to be out of commission for a while so you'll have to pick up the pace for him. If I come back here and there's not something interesting for me I'm taking it out of his hide."

"You go right ahead then." Dad interrupted, stumbling to his one good leg. "I don't mind working on a bad—AHH!"

Dad stopped when Negan's gun spit a bullet into his right arm silencing him and making him lose his balance once again.

"I'm not talking to you, motherfucker!" Negan roared. "Stay the fuck down and butt-out of our private conversation!"

"Leave him alone!" I shrieked, drawing a knife and damn set on driving it straight into whatever shriveled tumor served as Negan's heart. It whistled as I slashed it back and forth trying to find contact with his abdomen and hopefully slash it enough to spill some of his intestines. It only reached far enough to scratch the leather before Negan caught my wrist with his other hand, joining it with the one suspended above my head and tugging the blade away. Now both my wrists were held above me, and no matter how hard I kicked or thrashed, I couldn't break free of him.

He regarded the stiletto. "Holy fuck, kid! You were totally prepared to knife me, weren't you? There was no ounce of hesitation in your eyes when you pulled that."

I kept fighting, tugging and trying to rip out of his grip but he was ten times my size and I knew the one hand he had hold on me now was strong enough to keep holding me for the entire day if he really wanted to. Just then he pulled me sharply up, tugging my body entirely off the ground to look him square in the eye. His voice once more dropped several octaves as he stared me down and I finally stilled when I felt the chill of the blade press hard against my throat.

"You're not fucking listening. As impressed as I am with your enormous balls and the cold killer stare you've mastered, it's a little grating, so unless you want me to keep on using your father as a target you better SHOW ME SOME FUCKING RESPECT!"

He roared right in my face and the force of it spooked me enough that I went limp at last, but my glare stayed on.

"That's better. Now… you went off and killed my girl Lucille." For a wild moment he looked terrifyingly unhinged, like it didn't matter if I was just a kid or not. He looked angry enough to beat the shit out of me, or worse. "By all rights I should rip your little throat out for that with this letter opener right here. There's this part of me that's screaming to do it. However, like I said I'm so motherfucking impressed by that throw that I can't seem to find it in me to do that. Anyone your size with an arm like that is way too fucking valuable to just waste like that. So you're going to work for me. When I come back here in a week I want what you found for me. If you don't fucking deliver I'm putting another bullet in your daddy, only this time it's going to be somewhere you can't take it out of. Do you understand?"

I was so furious that a pool of angry tears had slid from my eyes and I finally dropped my gaze, staring at a zipper on his jacket while my head nodded up and down in surrender. It didn't seem wise to speak; my voice would choke if I did. I was already crying and I didn't want him to _hear_ my fear as well.

"I'm glad you've come around. This is so fucking exciting. And who knows…" he announced putting pressure on the knife so that I raised my gaze back up to look at him, "if you impress me again next week, I might just reward you for your services. I don't normally do that, but since you're already such a tiny badass I might just make an exception."

With those words he threw me to the ground where I crumbled hard, scraping my hands against the pavement as I landed. I looked up at him and he pocketed my knife, winking as he turned. "I like you kid. I don't want to kill you just yet."

As he grew distant I looked around and realized that all eyes in the whole town had been aimed at us. Even the saviors had paused as they watched in awe, totally transfixed for what had transpired. When Negan turned it seemed like a bolt of lightning had struck all his men individually and they jolted back to life, finishing their work to load everything on the trucks and head out once more.

I jolted as well springing to my feet and rushing towards my dad. He was bleeding bad; the worse I'd ever seen. People were already running to help hoist him up and get him to the infirmary. He had lost some blood but otherwise he was completely conscious. I couldn't imagine how bad it must have hurt for him but he was taking it like a man.

I followed Michonne, Carl, and Aaron as they spread him on one of the surgical beds. Heath pulled a tray of instruments towards him as he rapidly looked Dad over. "Nothing looks to be majorly damaged. I think you'll live."

"That's some good news."

Michonne noticed me and Carl just then and moved us for the door as people prepared for surgery. But before I had gone I caught the words Dad shouted at me before we had gone.

"Judith! You're grounded! AGAIN!"

"That's fair!"

The door closed and Carl and I were left outside while the adults got to work.

* * *

**Author's notes: Things are heating up now. I was waiting forever to post this chapter. Here's where things start getting good. By the way the song she sings is a poem written by me for a spur of the moment. I thought it was a bit like a nursery rhyme. Since people pretty much had to start over from scratch since the epidemic it would make sense that they might develop little rhymes to maybe teach children about the dangers of walkers and what not in the forest. So that's just a little tune Judith made up on the spot.**

**Guys if you get the chance I would really appreciate some feedback about what you think of this story. So if you get the chance it would mean a lot to me if you review. Tell me what you like, what you dislike, what you think I could improve about it. I'm very interested to hear your thoughts. It really, really means a lot.**


	12. The Rule of Three

**Chapter 12**  
 ** The Rule of Three**  
It was an hour before we were allowed back in. Dad looked better but he was angry. When he asked if everyone could leave the room so he could talk to me alone I could definitely feel a very big lecture coming. I turned away, unable to look at him as he spoke sternly.

"This is not a good thing." He stated plainly.

I crossed my arms defensively, staring out the window. "You don't think I know that, Dad?!"

"I'm serious, Judith!"

"Look it wasn't my fault, alright! It wasn't my idea to throw it that hard it just... I was so mad and Glenn just up and started..."

"No, NO! You're not blaming this one on ghosts, alright." He announced angrily. He pointed at me for added affect. " _You_ messed up, Judith, and now Negan's going to make you pay for it, and there is not a thing I can do about it!"

His desperate angry shout was laced with hidden terror and the sound of it formed a painful lump in my throat. I looked back at him and the full weight of the situation dropped on me. For so long I worked to remain out of Negan's line of vision, but now... it looked like I had his full attention on me.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is not good."

"Yeah, you said that, Dad." I moaned trying not to cry about this whole stupid situation.

"I'll talk to Aaron and Michonne." He decided, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and getting up shakily. "Tomorrow we'll go out and maybe if we're lucky we might manage to scrounge something up to satisfy him."

"He said _I_ had to find it, and you're hurt, Dad. You're hurt really bad."

"Which is why whatever we find you'll pass off as your own when Negan comes back."

I felt deeply insulted by that. I had been able to look out for myself this whole time and had gathered things that not even _he_ knew where to get. Did he think I was so incapable? "I can find things on my own. I'm good at it, too."

"You won't be able to go find those things because I believe I clearly grounded you."

"This is SO stupid!" I yelled, utterly furious. Angry tears gathered at the corners of my eyes as I shouted back at him. "You know I'm capable of being out there! I've been capable of being out there my whole life and I'm not afraid of anything in those woods! Not wolves or walkers or fucking Negan! You're just being a coward again!"

"DON'T YOU DARE USE THAT LANGUAGE WITH ME, YOUNG LADY!" Dad roared back, entirely unhinged by my outburst. I had never seen him look so furious with me. Not ever. The sight of it was terrifying. No wonder he commanded such respect among our community.

"Everything I have done I've done to ensure this town's safety and yours! Do you think so little of me that you don't believe I would fight back if I thought there was even a chance I could kill that bastard! Fighting back is easy, Judith Grimes. I'd kill every goddamned one of those people if I didn't know we'd all die for it-if I didn't know YOU would die for it?!"

I was silent. The tears I'd been trying to hold back finally slid out my eyes and I looked away, ashamed for the weakness as I tried to mop them up.

Dad's volume softened, but the seriousness of it did not. "Fighting is easy, Judith Grimes. It's easy for you and it's easy for me. That's why it's our first reaction towards everything. Groveling is what's hard. It the worst tasting sewage you'll ever have to stomach, but I stomach it because anything else ends with you and Carl taken from me in one form... or another.

"I will face walkers, wolves, bandits and _fucking_ Negan every day if I have to, but I will **NOT** face that. I will **NOT** risk your life for mine, Judith Grimes. Never ask me that again!"

There was a strange silence. I felt like I had been punched in the gut by those words. I couldn't remember how to breathe as I looked back at him while he straightened, limping out of the infirmary on a crutch.

"You are staying in town." He announced and I could tell by the tone that it wasn't up for negotiation or argument. "I'm getting someone to watch you at every moment if I have to, but you are **STAYING** in town. If I find out that you snuck over the walls again, you will be in for a world of trouble and I'll lock you in your room or the stockade, understand?"

I wanted to argue and shout about how unbelievably unfair this all was, but there was only one thing my dad wanted to hear from me right now, anything else would only make my punishment worse.

"Yes sir."

With those final words I turned and burst out of the infirmary trying to wipe up the tears before everyone saw. I didn't want to go home; I wanted to go to the island. I wanted to be with Vanessa and the garden and the shrines and the river Styx and just... I didn't want to be here!

All the same, I ran the distance back to our house slamming the door to my bedroom and sliding to the floor in defeat, bringing my knees to my chest and crying right where I was.

Dad didn't get it. He didn't get it at all! And I couldn't tell him or Carl or anyone because then we'd be in worse danger than ever and... and it was just... it was all... it was all just so messed up!

It was all so fucking messed up and unfair and stupid! And there wasn't a thing I could do about any of it!

In that moment of weakness and vulnerability I reached out to blame someone: Dad, Negan, me... and then I felt the chain around my neck and the charms that weighed against it.

Unfastening it, my fingers grasped at the car charm and my helplessness turned into rage.

" _Glenn_!" I hissed, glaring down at it. This was all _his_ fault! If he hadn't gotten mad and decided to play puppet master with me none of this would have happened! In a moment of rage I tugged the charm away from the rest and chucked it at the far corner of the wall. It tinged loudly against the plaster and fell away out of sight in some unseen corner of the room.

I hated him for what he did! He shouldn't have treated me like that; like a remote controlled robot. No other spirit had ever done something like thatâ€”even the meanest of them. He was supposed to have been my friend. I wouldn't forgive him for it!

Because of him I was waist deep in a whole lot of crap and now I was half a dozen different kinds of doomed.

Just then there was a knock on the door; thinking it was Michonne or Carl I shouted back, "I don't want to talk to anyone right now! Just leave me alone, alright!"

But then I heard Enid's voice as well as the yips of two different puppies.

"Well is it okay if these little guys come in at least?"

I got up, swatting away the tears as best I could before even touching the knob. I inched the door opened cautiously, seeing my friend holding an eager Sheriff and the ever calm Eclipse in her arms. I opened the door the rest of the way and allowed them entrance, taking my designated hound the moment he was over the threshold.

He licked up the remaining salt water on my face and I felt immediately better.

Enid didn't say anything as we both migrated over to the lone mattress, dropping on it as we held our pets.

We didn't say anything; not for a long time at least, deciding it was better to just watch the pups than attempt a conversation.

Finally Enid spoke.

"Maybe... maybe it's time we tell them."

I didn't have to ask her what she was talking about. "Do you think that would help the situation?"

"It could. It might..."

"And you don't think any of the Saviors will find out? You're sure that now especially it won't get back to Negan and he won't be dead set on using me in whatever way he can for it? You're sure that everyone will be safe if I were to come out about it?"

"I..."

Who was she kidding? No one could promise something like that. Negan had his eye on me now and thanks to that stupid stunt Glenn pulled anything else out of the ordinary even came up around me and I'd be shipped off to the Sanctuary on the first truck out of Alexandria.

"I'm in more danger than I ever was, Enid." I declared sternly. "I'm not telling anyone about it! And you can't tell either! It's not your life and it's not your burden."

Her face twisted in fury by that announcement.

"It _is_ my burden because I have to sit back and watch this crap unfold." She growled. "I can't say anything until _you_ decide to say _something_. Do you know how hard that is?" She ranted. But before giving me the chance to try answering, she continued.

"You think it's just going to make everything worse instead of imagining it could make things better. I don't think you do it because you think it'd be more dangerous, I think you do it because you like having that secret. It's all yours. It's like a superpower and you think you're a superhero protecting your identity or something! Well guess what, Judithâ€”you're not! This isn't one of Carl's comic books! Negan isn't your arch nemesis and you're not going to fight the villain and save everyone!"

My face burned. "I never...¦ that's not what I...¦"

Her words stung so much; mostly because I think in the deep recesses of my subconscious, that's what I had secretly daydreamt about. She was right. I wasn't a superhero. This thing, whatever I could do against the walkers... it wasn't a superpower. It just meant I wasn't appetizing enough to them.

I got up, walking around the room.

"Look I get it okay." I bit out, trying not to cry more, but failing miserably anyways. "I've just been manhandled by King Asshole, my dad just grounded me from doing what I was supposed to do, and I don't need another lecture! I thought you were going to try and - oh I don't know - make me feel a little better about this crap, but if you're just going to shout at me as well, then you can just get out!"

The moment it was all off my tong I regretted it. She looked offended and torn between doing just that, but she didn't move. Inside I was relieved by it. I really didn't want her to go. Not yet. I thought I didn't want anyone, but I really did. I wanted to talk about this with someone and I didn't want to end up chasing her off in anger as well.

She sighed. "Okay, you're right. I shouldn't have said that, and I really did come up here to try and help you out. I'm sorry I made you feel worse."

I sniffed wiping at my eyes again. The puppy in my arms yipped and struggled so I let him down. I stayed standing though leaning against the opposite wall from Enid as I watched Sheriff and Eclipse tousle playfully on the floor.

"I just want to help." She tried again.

I slid to the ground, crossing my arms over my knees. "Alright, then what should I do."

"Maybe now's the time to tell them."

"Look I know you think that's the best idea, but could we please put a push pin in that plan and come back to it later. I just don't think I can think about doing that right now."

She opened her mouth looking ready to argue but closed it just as quickly in surrender like I had asked. We were silent again. Was that the only plan she had? Telling everyone about me? Stupidâ€¦ Why the hell did I let her in my room?

Just then her demeanor changed slightly. "I know the aftermath wasn't that great," She said with a careful smile, "but you knowâ€¦ it was pretty cool when you tossed his bat and it shattered over the pavement."

I glanced at her as she went on.

"I wish you had seen everyone's faces. I thought most of the Saviors were going to crap themselves. Negan himself even looked a little scared of you for a moment. At least for a second, long enough for that guy to freak out over the toss and Negan to gather himself enough to deck him quiet."

It hadn't been all that cool for me or Dad at the time, but to anyone else, maybe it had looked pretty spectacular.

"Did... did I really look cool?"

"Well... the explosion was pretty cool, especially the sound. You looked a little lost like you weren't even paying attention to what you were doing until after you did it."

"Well it hadn't been my idea to throw it. I didn't even really want to take it in the first place. Glenn..." I didn't know what to say about it all. Really I was just so angry about the whole situation. "I don't know what came over him but heâ€¦" my voice choked on the phraseâ€”I just felt so betrayed! "He possessed me! He drove me around like that! And now I don't evenâ€¦"

"Wait, _Glenn_ possessed you?"

"Of course he did! There's no way I could have made a toss like that on my own. _Big, stupid, dead, vengeful spirit, jerk_!"

"I didn't even know they could do that. I just thought you were seeing dead people, I didn't know they couldâ€¦"

"They can't!" I hissed. "They're not supposed to, not without permission and I've never given my permission to any of them! It was stupid and selfish and violating and I won't forgive him for that! He was... he was completely out of line!"

"Do you know where he is now?"

"No! And I don't care!"

"Judith, please. This is _Glenn_ we're talking about. Are you sure it was him?"

"Yes."

There was more silence. Then Enid began again, this time very carefully. "I'm not trying to justify what he did, because you're right, it was completely out of line... but it would make sense he would try something like this, considering the way he was murdered. Maybe he just wanted some justice."

" _Justice_?"

She cut me off before I could continue in outrage. "Look, I get that you're angry, it wouldn't make sense if you weren't. But maybe he was just desperate and tired of waiting for that bastard to be killed already, so he went for the next best thing. He deserved that much."

"So you're saying that it was okay for him to possess me like that? It was okay for him to _use_ me like that?! Just as long as he got his "justice" it was okay to make me feel helpless against his control? That's what you're saying?"

"No that's not what I'm saying. You're twisting my words. I'm just saying... what I'm trying to say..." Enid opened her mouth but closed it again as she seemed to understand where I was coming from. Something else seemed to cross her face, as if the conversation were reminding her of something else--something darker.

She face-palmed by that and groaned as if she were suddenly disgusted by her own words. "Ah, what am I saying? Of course it wasn't alright! It wasn't alright at all! Fuck!" She rarely used profanity, but it seemed as if she was appalled enough to warrant that sort of language. "This is so messed up!"

"That's what I've been saying!"

We tried to talk through the events of the day and ran over different possibilities and plans long after even the sun had set and the light in the room had grown dim, but in the end nothing was decided. I had no idea what I was going to do and neither did my friend.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Short chapter today, compared to yesterday but I really wanted to get this one out as well. Thank you so much for the encouragement in your reviews. Keep them coming.**


	13. Naegling is Forged

**Chapter 13**   
**Naegling** **is Forged**

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

Something woke me up in the middle of the night. A miserable moan as it repeated over and over again.

I lifted my head and saw the outline of someone sitting at my desk, rocking back and forth as a hand gripped their face in agony. Blinking wearily I looked over as recognized who it was.

"Glenn?"

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." He moaned over and over again.

I sat up uneasily, spooked by this new development. I had never seen any spirit look so desperate and helpless before. What was Glenn doing now?

"Please forgive me." He begged looking up at last. His eyes were different, empty and black and full of such sorrow and desperation that it threw me off for a moment. His pathetic plea, doubled with the expression in his face struck something in me and made me want to forget entirely about what he did and just forgive him, but the pride in me wouldn't let it go so easily.

"How can you ask me to do that after what you did, Glenn? You did more than control me. You dominated me..."

His head bowed in agony as he stared at his hands. "I know. I'm... I'm a monster. You can't hate me more than I hate myself."

As angry as I was, this was still my friend and he deserved an opportunity for forgiveness. I got to my feet and stood in front of him. "Will you ever do something like that again?"

"Never!" He vowed. "I will never do such a thing again. I swear."

I let his vow hang in the air before I moved towards him, "Then I forgive you, Glenn. And I'm sorry you felt desperate enough to take matters into your own hands. I'll try to do everything I can to put your spirit to rest."

"I can't rest," He announced. The declaration looked like it was bringing him immeasurable pain that he was trying to ignore. "I have to watch over Maggie and little Hershel. I can't rest."

I crouched down to meet his gaze. "You're getting sick, Glenn. Your murderer is making you sick. You're full of so much anger and vengeance. You need to go on, like Abraham and T-Dog. They're waiting for you."

His expression turned just as rapidly from desperate to angry. The blackness in his eyes spread and he looked terrifying. "Why do I have to go on if there are others that can stay?" He announced in a hiss that was not his regular voice. "Hershel and Beth and Lori are all still lingering. Why don't you tell them to go on?!"

"Their killers have been dealt with. Yours hasn't and it's eating you up, making you something that you never were in life. Not once."

" **Things are different.** " He stated in that same inhuman hiss.

Just then he rose to his feet and towered over me. The darkness in his eyes crawled through his veins and traveled through his body straight through his hands and feet. But it didn't stop there. It swept from his feet like a strange shadow till it engulfed my entire room, swallowing up the dim light and creating a void where the only things that existed were me and him.

" **No one will do it. No one will avenge me. Not even Rick.** "

"Glenn," I tried to reach for him carefully. "This isn't you talking. You never once spoke about vengeance. You never once thought about "getting even", even when you had the right to. How can you say this now?"

"I want my son to live without fear. I want Maggie to be able to raise him in freedom. I want that tyrant destroyed!" The darkness just then seemed to be pulling me under like I was stuck in quicksand or tar. I tried to pull away but I only sank faster into it. I looked back at the spirit and was terrified to realize he did not look like Glenn at all.

" **And if you won't do it, then I'll find someone who will**!"

"Glenn, NO!" I reached for him but the tar pulled me under before I had a chance to scream for help.

* * *

I woke up breathing hard and trembling all over.

My eyes snapped opened to find the light of sunrise streaming in through my window. I kept my eyes opened wide, frightened of blinking and finding the tar behind my lids and Glenn's dark vengeful spirit. My eyes stared at the ceiling, my body straight and rigid as I lied on my back to peer at it.

That dream had been among one of the worst nightmares I could ever remember having. Glenn was worse than I thought. The only thing that seemed to hold any chance of putting him to rest was the idea of killing Negan. But what would that do?

Glenn might go on at last, but what if Negan decided to linger in his place? If someone as brave and forgiving as Glenn could turn into something that terrifying, I could scarcely imagine what someone like Negan could become. And the worst thing was that I'd be the only one to see him. He'd be there everywhere I turned and went. He'd follow me always and there would be no escape. That seemed almost more terrifying than letting him live.

What the hell could I do?

* * *

My head rested in my arms as I leaned against the porch railing to watch my dad and Aaron pack up some supplies. I was so angry I could barely look at him. He knew I was staring but he ignored it until it was that time to move out at last.

He was hobbling on his bad leg, though he was doing his best to muscle through it. Out of instinct I looked away from his struggle. It just made me angrier but I kept my mouth shut till he finally was ready to say goodbye.

He approached but I turned away, glaring at the tree in our front yard.

"I'm going." Dad said.

"I don't care." I bit out angrily.

"Judith, please I don't..."

"No!" I cut him off, staring back at him. "I should be going along. I should be looking, too. You said I was capable of being out there. Why do I have to be stuck here?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We've been over this."

"No _you've_ been over this! _You're_ the one who should be staying behind!" I flung my arm towards his bad leg. "You can barely walk. You're going to get yourself or Aaron killed out there and I'm not going to cry when you do. You know what I'm going to say when you come back as a ghost? I'm gunna say "Told you so" and you're going to turn around and say back, "Yeah, I guess you did." And I won't cry because I was right!"

He looked like he wanted to say something angry right back at me, but he reframed, closing his mouth to sigh.

"I'll be back in a few days."

"No you won't," I snapped matter-of-factly.

He said nothing but turned away. For some reason I was angrier for his composure and had even wished slightly that he would yell at me again and stay longer to do so. But he didn't.

"I'm telling you right now I'm not going to cry!" I shouted at his back, thinking that would at least jar him enough to turn, but he didn't. I was furious and desperate to get him to stay.

"Yell at me!" I shouted. "Damnit, yell at me!" He opened the car door, but before he got in I ran at him, desperately trying to hold him back. "Don't go! You won't come back if you go!"

"I'll be back in a few days" He said resolutely.

"At least let me come! I can help. Please let me come, too!"

He only untangled from my arms and got in the car. "Three days." He promised. "I'll be back by then."

"Dad!" But the car was already pulling out of the gate and Michonne held me back so I wouldn't follow.

* * *

"He shouldn't have gone. He's gunna get himself killed!" I sat on the edge of Carl's bed while we talked together in his room. He didn't look at me while he whittled away on something.

"That's Dad's decision then." Carl responded.

"To die?"

"Dad's survived worse. Much worse, Judith. He'll come back."

It was a bit rare these days when the two of us ever hung out. In all honesty, I preferred Enid's company. But today we were both feeling a bit bitter; me with being left behind and him being left behind to play babysitter. He was so often with Dad or Michonne learning what it meant to be a leader and what not and I was off doing my own things. The only real times we were together was when we had to do chores or in the evening when Bianca was on. People suspected he would probably follow in Dad's footsteps, if that jerk Spencer would stop getting in his way already.

We sat together in his room and I fiddled with one of the animal caricatures he had littered around every flat surface. Over the years he'd gotten pretty good in his skills for whittling, though I knew his true interest was to become a blacksmith if only Dad would let him go to Hilltop to apprentice there.

He said he wanted to be useful, but I think he really just wanted to make sharp things. In my opinion he was still able to help make plenty of useful things already. Carpentry, after all, was always useful.

Just then Carl handed me what he'd been working on. I turned it in my hands and realized it was a new slingshot. The shaft was carved from redwood and looked like it had been sawed off of something else while a horseshoe screwed into the frame served as the prongs. It wasn't near as nice as the one Dad had given me as a birthday present but it was sturdy and would do the job. Plus Carl had worked hard to make it for me. I turned it in my hand and stopped when I noticed an inscription carved into the wood with fading gold lettering.

My hand went to my mouth as I gasped in shock.

_Lucille_

"Is this...?" I couldn't even say it.

"I gathered up the other pieces and burned them in our fireplace." Carl stated. "I don't' know why I didn't toss this one in, too. But I couldn't for some reason."

"Why would you do this?"

He sat back in his chair and rubbed his neck. "I'm not even sure. It's probably in poor taste. Maybe I just wanted to rub it in Negan's face for once. Maybe I wanted a reminder that good things can come out of bad things... I don't know."

I didn't know what to say or how to feel. This was the weapon that had killed Abraham and Glenn. This was the weapon that Negan threatened and intimidated us with. This was the weapon that I had destroyed.

But it wasn't.

It was something new.

I didn't know what to do with it; if I liked it, if I wanted to use it, or if I just wanted to throw it away.

"Look you don't have to use it." He said, seeing the look in my eyes. "I'm not saying you have to. I'm not even sure if I want you to, really. I made it mostly to remind _me_ of those things. I don't want to forget what it did even if I do hate it, but maybe in your hands it'll become something else."

I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't know what to say or if anything was appropriate to say.

"I just need one thing changed on it." I gripped it hard and turned Carl's attention to the inscription. "Is there any way to erase this part here?" My finger traced a line through the last three letters in the name. Without a word Carl took it from me, turning back to his work table and grabbed a piece of sandpaper. He rubbed circles over the letters, wearing them down to nothing so that even the name of it was no more.

_Luci_

The weapon was new entirely now. It was like... legendary. One sword forged from the pieces of a different darker weapon. Somehow, I was certain something like this had been described in a sort of old tale of heroes, but I couldn't remember which one that had been.

Even with that in mind we both couldn't stop staring at it, uncertain if this was okay or not. This thing had killed our people and who knew how many others. It was a symbol of our oppression and at least two other communities.

"Is this right?" I murmured.

"I don't know." Carl admitted. "But it would be nice to show him that it's yours now. That you can do whatever you want with it. He can take it back, sure, but it'll never actually be his again."

"That would be nice." I guess I was keeping it then. It would rest in my back pocket till I could make a new holster for it. "Thank you, Carl."

He shrugged.

"How do you think Dad will react when he sees it?"

His shoulders dropped in ennui, as if he didn't even want to think about it. "I don't know. But it's not his call. Use it, don't use it, I don't care and he shouldn't either."

He turned his back on me once again, but I didn't leave just yet. I looked down at the weapon in my hands and sighed, dropping my shoulders the same way Carl's had.

"Why is this happening?"

"I've been asking that question for eleven years." He said. "And I still don't know why."

My gaze turned into a glare as I mumbled. "Why did I have to poke my nose where it wasn't supposed to be? I should have just kept walking."

"Are you talking about when you were in the woods?"

"Yeah. If I'd just kept going then I wouldn't... but then he'd still be..." I stopped those thoughts in their tracks. I knew that if it were any other way he would still be toying with my dad and brother and making them hurt worse and worse. Better he was toying with me, I know they didn't think so, but he couldn't hurt me the way he hurt them. At least not yet. I think he thought since I was so young I could get away with a little more and because of that innocence I think he thought it was amusing in some way, almost like I was a kitten trying to roar at a tiger yet I only managed some weak high-pitched meows that were more adorable than fierce.

The scratches I made never even broke his hide. At the most it only made him irritable. I thought I was biting at a snake's head, but it was just his tail whipping back and forth.

I felt stupid for even trying, but I just couldn't stop running my mouth in his presence. No matter what he said, no matter what he did, why did I always have to open my mouth?

* * *

**Author's notes: Thanks for all the reviews, guys. They really help so keep them coming.**

**I'm posting two chapters today. For those of you who don't know Hrunting and** **Naegling are swords of legend from the poem of Beowulf. The first was shattered in a battle between Grendel's mother and though it doesn't say so I have this theory that Naegling may have been forged from the pieces of the first. I know I'm really grasping here but I was doing research of legendary weapons that were made from the pieces of another and came up with pretty much nothing.**

**I hope that doesn't look tacky or half-assed.**

**Again thanks for the reviews.**


	14. The Lion and the Beetle

**Chapter 14**  
 **The Lion and the Beetle**  
There's this fairytale. In it there is a proud lion. He would walk the length of a massive forest of which was his kingdom and roar out how fine and great he was. Upon his passing all the other animals would bow in respect to him and no one would dare to make fun of or refuse to show their respect to the lion for he was indeed the king of the forest.

One day there was to be a splendid parade and the king of the beasts would be featured in it. The vain lion decided to don his finest robe and his largest fanciest medals. He even wore a shining jeweled crown atop his great mane. Among the big animals there was a small beetle that could barely be seen by any of the larger animals.

As the king passed by, all the animals bowed in respect towards him. Meanwhile, the very small beetle kept looking up but made the mistake of looking directly at the king. The lion then asked her to bow before him and the beetle responded with, "But Your Majesty, I am bowing."

"You are so small. I can't see you bowing before me." The king replied.

Then the beetle asked the lion king to look at her closely, however the weight of the jewels, crown and robe, made the king very top-heavy so when he leaned down to look closer he lost his balance, fell on his head and rolled over and over in the mud.

And while the Lion had been busy making a fool of himself to his other subjects, the little beetle scurried away out of sight. The moral of this story is this: pride cometh before the fall.

You could say Negan had some big ego issues which is why he is understandably the Lion in this tale and while there may not be death at the end of this story, I at least resolved to make him look like a fool as often as I could manage it if he would insist on turning attention towards me.

During the days my father was away people continued to distract me with chores and tasks in his absence. Michonne and Carl took up the majority of that time by making me take care of the dogs, helping Gabriel with the sheep, or giving me this and that sort of job and task if there was ever a moment when I appeared to be idle.

Just like Dad promised I was never allowed to be left alone. I suppose he expected I would go AWOL the first chance I got.

Well... he'd probably be right then.

It was infuriating to have eyes on me all the time but Michonne absolutely refused to let me go anywhere without someone. Finally I said something about it.

"Come on, Michonne. I get Dad being this overbearing but I thought you might ease up a little."

"Boss's orders, honey."

"You know I'm capable of being out there. I've lasted on my own out there for years."

"I'm sure you are, but this is a punishment and you're going to do your time just like anyone else."

I was silent as we continued to weave the basket packs we were working on. We worked in silence preferring to cater to our wondering thoughts over speaking out loud when something started to bother me just then.

"Michonne, how big do catfish get?"

"It depends on where you're at and what species it is." She said. "In the Mississippi they can grow to be as large as small whales."

"...Do they really?"

"Yep."

My shoulders dropped at the confirmation. I had really held out the hope that Negan was a character made of nothing but lies and deceit. It galled me like no other to find that that farfetched tale had been truthful after all.

Ah who cared?! So he told the truth this one time. It didn't make him less of the monster he was.

The end of the three days finally came and the morning of I paced the porch anxious and waiting till something finally drew my attention towards the gate.

Words could not describe the relief that swept over me at the sight of my dad driving into town just as he said. For three agonizing days I waited, fearing that something terrible would happen. His bad leg would slow them down. He would be killed or bitten. I was sure of it and the agony of that prediction tore me up.

But then they both rolled inside the fence and I could barely contain my relief at the sight of him. I ran forward as he unloaded from the car and nearly toppled him over as I embraced him hard.

It seems my witchy spells were still working at least. The comfrey protection pouches I'd hidden in their left pockets did their jobs well enough, so that was a large relief that some things could go right for once.

They didn't find a whole lot unfortunately, mostly junk that could probably be recycled into somewhat useful tools. The most valuable things were some chickens and a duck they'd found around an abandoned farm, but otherwise the rest wasn't all that impressive and when Negan came the next day he was even less overwhelmed at the sight of it.

Today Negan didn't want to talk to my dad. When he entered he brushed the man promptly off and demanded to know where I was. At the mention I materialized behind him, making him jump slightly by my stealth.

"Geeze, kid, we need to get you a bell or something!" Then he put a hand on my shoulder and asked me to take him to his offering today. He ordered my dad to help them load up the supplies while he spoke with me though.

"Is this it?" He asked, an eyebrow raised and clearly unimpressed by the meager load.

I nodded.

"Did you find this stuff all on your own?"

My teeth clenched. "Not all of it."

His hand on my shoulder tightened slightly. His voice was low and he leaned a bit down to my ear. "And you wouldn't lie to me, sweetie, would you?"

My heart jumped a bit by that and I could feel an uneasy sweat break out at the back of my neck.

"No." I said a bit too quickly.

The silence that stretched was pure agony. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes." I declared without missing a beat.

"Strange... because from what I know about you, your element seems to be more for the forest and fresh foods than these... hard goods here. Plus I don't suspect you'd be able to go very far on just your legs, unless you can drive. Can you drive? Somehow, that wouldn't surprise me much."

"No, I can't drive. I just went with them on a supply run."

"Oh yeah. And who's them?"

"Aaron and my dad."

"Where did you find all that stuff?"

"An old barn."

"You sure? I was under the impression that everything from here to Pennsylvania was probably picked clean by now."

"I guess we just got lucky, then."

He looked down at me and steered me away, touring the town with me as his guide. He already knew it well enough, but I guess he just wanted to talk with me alone. I didn't want to but there was nothing I could do about it.

 _Glare and bear it_ , I told myself. _Just glare and bear it_.

"You know, Judy, I know plenty about your brother and your daddy, but I know so little about you. Strange isn't it?"

"Not really." I knew why he didn't know much about me and he did, too. He was just being coy.

"Well I think I'd like to take this opportunity to get to know you a little better."

"I already told you I was an open book, nothing much interesting to know."

"Bullshit." He snapped, resorting back to his usual profanity. The more he talked the darker his tone got and the greater my apprehension grew. "You're not an open fucking book. You killed my girl Lucille. Now you might think she was just an inanimate object. An inconsequential piece of wood wrapped carefully with barbed wire... **not** something to be **cherished** , but you'd be **dead fucking wrong**."

Just then he turned me to face him and I saw the complete unnerving look in his eye. He looked utterly wrathful.

"Lucille was a lady... but at times, yeah... she wasn't so nice... truth is... Lucille was a cold hearted **bitch**. But she was **my** bitch. That bitch saved my life more times than I could remember. She's the only bitch I ever truly loved." He gripped my shirt and I was so scared I thought for a moment I might wet myself for how petrified I was.

"I don't fucking care if you're a kid. In my book if you so much as hit my girl against something she didn't like you ought to be dead. You want to know a secret? Up until you shattered her like a fucking stained glass window I really liked you. You're like your brother. I never had kids of my own but when I saw your brother, got the chance to know him I thought to myself, if I ever did have a fucking kid, I'd want a kid like this fucking kid. And then I met you and... fuck, you might say I'm jealous as hell of your old man. Tough, resourceful fucking kids he's got... the both of you."

I couldn't speak, or think of anything other than his words. What was I supposed to say to something like that? Were there any words after hearing something so insane? I just stayed quiet.

"So you're going to compensate for it by telling me about you. I'm going to ask you a question, and if you don't fucking tell me the truth, I'll make sure you never even think about lying to me again. Got it?"

Mechanically my head nodded up and down. In the back of my mind I panicked. Most of the truth he might not believe or was so dangerous not even my own family knew about it. Despite consequences I couldn't risk my secrets like that.

I just couldn't!

"Alright then," and his demeanor changed so suddenly it made my head spin. One minute he was looking like he would tear my throat open and the next he looked totally at ease. "Let's see then, oh right; did you really find that supplies for me?"

My head turned down as I rubbed my arm shakily and shook my head once in response to his question.

"I thought so." He huffed. "Now why didn't you do as I say?"

"I'm... I'm grounded." I said softly. "Dad thought I could be more useful around town."

"Shame... it seemed like you were plenty useful before. Let's see if we might be able to change your dad's mind on that."

"I'll talk to him tonight." I said quickly, before Negan could make his way towards my father. "We'll work something out."

"Wouldn't want you to get into even more trouble on my account. Maybe I should have a word with him. I'm sure I can make him see reason."

I could hear the double meaning of that phrase and I knew just how Negan would make my father see reason. "I think I should really learn how to handle these problems on my own." I offered delicately. "The challenge... helps me grow."

"Maybe, but it's never wrong to ask for help every once in a while."

"Of course," I said uneasily. Why couldn't he just take no for an answer? "And if I ever need help on something I'll be sure to ask."

_I wouldn't ask him for water if I was on fire!_

I'd rather eat tar or willingly fall to my death over a precipice with a stampede of water buffalo right under my back! Better to let go on my own than let him sink his claws in me and give him the satisfaction.

"You much prefer working alone, don't you?"

I didn't really, but it was better to work alone than risk having an accomplice I couldn't trust. I couldn't always rely on Enid's help. She had other things she had to tend to. Still, it was better to pretend that was true rather than risk anymore suspicion. "I think people... slow me down. It's easier working alone and I can go where I want to without someone filling the silence with noise and attracting attention from walkers and scaring away game."

"So you hunt?"

"Nothing big, like deer or dogs. Just birds and small animals and fish, really."

"What do you use to hunt with... oh right; your slingshot. The one you traded to me was very well made. Did you get a replacement yet?"

The Luci slingshot burned in my pocket and my heart sped more than it did before. The sweat on my neck grew hotter and slicker. "I haven't... really had an opportunity to go out for a while."

"I know. But did you replace it?"

I tried not to look down at it, but my voice trembled and I was starting to panic a little. "Um... y-yes. Sort of."

"Let me see it then."

I snatched it from my back pocket, holding it behind my back as sweat grew over my palm, making it slippery. My hand trembled over it and grew very agitated while I fumbled over my words. "Well... I-I haven't t-tested it you see, and I'm... I'm not sure if it's even..."

"Give it here. Let me see it."

I stared back at him, clearly terrified but there was no way I could get out of it, not unless I decided to chuck it in the lake, and I was pretty sure that would make things a whole lot worse than they were already. I doubted I'd be able to pull off another Lucille toss and get away with it a second time.

Negan wanted the slingshot and he would get the slingshot even if he had to pry it from my cold dead hands. Trembling all over, I placed it in his outstretched hand. He traced over the horseshoe and stretched the band experimentally.

"This isn't as nice as the one you gave me."

That comment would have made me smirk if I already wasn't so scared. Then I saw his face sober as he discovered the name on the shaft and we both froze. I forgot how to breathe and I didn't dare look into his eyes, preferring to keep my gaze on the ground while I waited for his reaction.

Then I heard him chuckle.

"This is so fucking adorable." He pronounced. I looked up and saw him grinning wide. "Did you really name this thing after my girl?"

"I..."

"No wait. This is from her handle isn't it?"

I couldn't move.

"You fashioned your new slingshot out of what was left of my Lucille. That's just the sweetest little thing I could have ever imagined."

I stared at him in shock. That hadn't been what I was expecting, or hoping for really. I kept the thing with the image of him being so infuriated about it but also being unable to emotionally respond to it other than throwing it away or giving it back. This reaction was wildly unexpected.

"I didn't..." I began, uncertain how I could respond to this development.

"I want to see how it works." He said, putting it back in my hands and placing his own on my shoulders to steer me towards a back yard. "Are you a good shot? You must be if you can manage hunting so well." He pointed to a spot on the wall. "Can you hit that stain?"

"I-I think so."

"You _think_ so?"

"All slingshots feel different. I usually need to break into it, first."

"Well... don't let me stop you."

On edge with the audience today I scoured the ground with an adequate rock. When I found it I took aim at the wall, but I was trembling so hard that I could barely keep my grip on it. When the projectile set sail it struck the wall two feet above the stain. Negan scoffed.

"Pitiful." He mocked. "Are you sure you're a hunter?"

His words galled me. Of course I was a hunter. I was just nervous that one time. I could hit it! I crouched down and looked for more rocks. When I stood again I took aim like before, only this time, I was fuelled by anger rather than fear. Angry and confident shooting always had the best results.

I struck it dead center that time and Negan whistled low. "Well then, I stand corrected. Pretty impressive. Do you kill roamers out there with that thing?"

I nodded. "Their heads are usually pretty rotted out, so they can be killed easily."

"How else do you deal with them?"

"Well... they're pretty stupid once you know how to control them. They'll follow anything that makes a sound or moves so if I keep that in mind, I can detour them pretty well. Also I'm faster and I can dodge around them okay. I don't usually worry about trying to kill them if I don't have to."

"Fuck..." He said looking at me in a way that set me on edge. "You know, they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery." He lifted the hand holding the slingshot and I followed his gaze to the word Luci. "You're flattering me way too much there, sweetheart."

I hated the delight he got with it. If I'd known he would take such pleasure in this I would have just thrown it away. "Well I needed a new one." I scoffed. "Supplies are limited at the moment and sometimes I have to improvise."

That didn't discourage him though.

"It's like she's living on somehow." He said fondly, and I hated it. I hated it so much! He only continued though. "It's like this is some kinda little daughter she left behind. That's comforting to me. It's seems almost appropriate, don't you think? Your own mother died bringing you into the world now didn't she?"

My mouth went dry instantly and my voice caught in my throat by those words. "How do you know about that?"

"Your brother and I have had our little chats before. As it turns out I know about that day very well." And he laughed in a way that made my skin crawl. "You should know how traumatic that experience was for him. How fucking much it messed him up. Does he ever talk about it with you?"

I shook my head, my voice growing tight with the knowledge that he would be privy to something so incredibly personal and invasive. "Dad and Carl don't talk about it."

"Do you know anything about that day?"

"I know _everything_ about that day." I stated quietly.

"You do, huh? And who told you about that charming little bedtime story?"

I wasn't going to answer him. Mom had come to me nearly every night to tell me that story while I was growing. I still found the story of the rose bud so beautiful, but it was Maggie who filled in some of the grimmer details for me. She had been gentle about it, but it still didn't banish the thought that somehow my mom's death was in some way _my_ fault. Maggie had been very firm in explaining that none of it was in any way my doing and that it was simply a series of unforeseen events that no one had any control over.

After that it was a reoccurring dream that often haunted me in later years. Some things might have change a bit; the true events might become mixed with elements of the fairytale, the rose bush might come to life and strangle my mother, or I didn't bloom from the bud my brother picked, but wilted and withered away. Those were the worst dreams of all.

"I can't remember who it was anymore." I said in that same quiet tone.

"Like hell you don't remember."

"I don't." I said more firmly. "I can't remember who told me first."

He scrutinized me, as if trying to detect if I was lying or not. He must not have seen it because he went on. "Bet that really screwed you up, didn't it? Finding out you killed your mom like that."

"I. Did. Not. Kill. My. Mom." I growled darkly. "It was all just a bunch of unforeseen circumstances that no one had any control over." Then I looked him in the eye, my voice growing low and alien while I stared back at him with a deadly, vengeful expression. " **Don't ever** try and convince me otherwise."

Negan was silent for a moment while he took in my expression; dark and furious and sinister, and I saw for a brief moment the unease lurking behind his gaze as he looked back at me. Even with that he still tried to look like it hadn't shaken him.

"Of course not. You were just a baby. You were in no way responsible for what happened." He said in a voice that could have been mistaken as sympathetic. "No. Your brother was the one that had the honors, wasn't he?"

I didn't say anything.

"Carl was the one to shoot her in the head, wasn't he?"

"Shut up." I murmured.

"He shot your mama dead, didn't he?"

"I said SHUT UP!" I looked up at him with rage, wanting to take the knife in my boot and slice it across his throat at the mention. He had no right to talk about that subject. None at all! "You don't know anything about it, SO SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH ALREADY!"

In all honesty I didn't know a whole lot about it either, but I knew the ghost of it. I saw it on Carl and Dad's faces all the time. I saw it in the way they sometimes looked at me. Those two tried to hide the regret and anguish of that day but sometimes it lingered on their faces while they were looking at me.

"Ooh," Negan said smiling interestingly. "Using grownup words now are we? It looks like I touched a nerve there. Does that bother you? Talking about your mom?"

I didn't say anything, choosing to fix my gaze on an anthill rather than concentrating on Negan and the look of pure glee on his face. It delighted him to get under my skin like that and the more I responded the more pleasure he took from it. I shouldn't have been so easy to read.

 _Bury it_ , I thought. _Bury it all deep. Don't respond, anymore. Just close it all off._

But there must have been something on my face making Negan pause for a moment. Just then his voice changed to something remorseful. "Ah jeeze. I'm sorry, Judy. It's easy to forget you're just a kid. I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings."

Hearing him address me by name jarred something in me and I felt immeasurable offense by such a suggestion. "You can't hurt my feelings." I announced glaring at the ant hill. "Hurting my feelings would imply that your opinion matters... and it doesn't."

That interested him greatly and even if I didn't see it, I knew there was an amused spark that lit in his eyes and his tone by those words. "Oh it doesn't, does it?"

"No."

"Then you know what I think?" He asked delightfully.

"Just because your opinion doesn't matter, doesn't mean I'll stand and listen to it." I countered sternly.

He stepped right up to me, using his enormous size to intimidate me, his voice low and threatening. "You know, you talk a big talk and fuck if you weren't so small I might have even forgotten you were a kid," He paused letting it sink in before his voice dropped again. "But I think you're forgetting who you're talking to. So drop the attitude or I'll bend you over my knee, you hear?"

Right after he said such a thing my mind leapt to conclusions and I backed away hastily with my hands going to my behind.

"O-OH?! And touch my bottom!" I shrieked at him, appalled entirely by the idea. "That's all you've been after from the start is my bottom! CHILD LOVER!"

I imagined him as a hundred different horrible things; murderer, warlord, bully, thug, thief, raider, intruder... but I didn't think he'd be one of _those_. Yet the more I thought of it I realized it made a horrible kind of sense with his uncomforting interest in me now. I mean, it was just one brief meeting in the woods for goodness sakes! THE SICKO!

His face changed drastically at the new development. First he looked confused as if he'd thought I would go quiet by his threat instead of shriek with worry, then he looked appalled by the accusation.

"No! That's not what I... How do you even know what a child lover is? You're like eight!"

"You don't even deny it!" I cried out in disgust, ignoring the urge to correct him on my age. "THAT'S _GROSS_! _YOU'RE_ GROSS!"

He looked sincerely angry and disgusted by such a suggestion. "I am a whole lot of fucked up stuff, but child lover will never be one of those."

"Yeah right!" I hissed, digging in my pocket and grabbing the spray bottle inside it. I held it threateningly, ready to throw it at him if he moved in a way I disliked. "Get away from me!"

His brow cocked at the sight of it. "Is that supposed to be pepper spray?"

" _No_." I said, looking at him like he was a complete idiot, because really, where in the world would I get pepper spray? "It's poison ivy oil-stings like a bitch and it will blind you... I think... pretty sure it will. I haven't really tested it out yet. It's sort of still on its trial run. Don't make me use you as a lab rat!"

The threat made him pause as he processed what I had just said. Then his hand went to his mouth as he tried to unsuccessfully hide a smile and stifle a snort. "You... had that in your pocket?"

"I don't have pepper spray." I explained. "But I can improvise."

We both turned as someone approached. Dad stood in front of us looking concerned and eager for Negan to leave already. He wasn't the only one. When he saw me pointing the perfume bottle at the man his brow dropped in confusion.

"Judith, what are you doing?"'

"I believe your daughter was going to spray me with... poison ivy oil was it?"

"Negan's a child lover!" I blurted in my defense. "He's gross and old and it was self-defense... or it would have been."

"Fuck, I am not a ch-!"

"You're supplies is loaded." Dad interrupted coming to my side and putting his hand on my shoulder in a clearly protective manner.

"It sounds as if you're trying to get rid of me, Rick. Is that what you're trying to do?"

"Picked up on that di-”," Dad slapped a hand over my mouth before I had time to finish my insult, speaking over my words.

"I don't imagine you'd like hanging around here more than you have to, especially when you have all that supplies to unload and sort through." He looked down at my head while I struggled to worm out of Dad's hold on me so I could spew more insults at the horrible man. He wordlessly kicked me in the pants, reminding me to mind my manners once again.

I stopped struggling and held my rear where he booted it. _Geez... right in the tailbone..._

"I guess the company isn't all that great now that you mention it." Negan said looking with distain down at me. Then he stepped up to Dad, glaring at him with all the intimidation he possessed. "You're child's a brat, and you're fucking pissing me off! I know she didn't help find the shit I specifically asked for, Rick. I gave her a job to do, and if she's not going to do it, she'll be accompanying me to the Sanctuary to learn the sort of discipline she's so clearly lacking here, because from what I can tell from her behavior, you're a pretty crap-ass father."

I looked up to see Dad bristle by the line. He was a lot of things and he had _done_ a whole lot of things, but where his kids were concerned he had done his absolute best and it was all he could do. He wouldn't let Negan of all people comment on his parenting abilities.

"We'll be back in a week and if I don't come back to something from her, I'll be taking someone's hand for it." He turned from us, yelling over his shoulder, "Keep that in mind."

And then he was gone at last.

* * *

**Author's notes: End of chapter 14. Things are getting good and I'm so excited. Judith is so sassy! I love writing her.**

**Guys keep up the reviews. I love, love, love hearing your thoughts! XD They really keep the story moving along.**


	15. The Book of the Dead

**Chapter 15  
The Book of the Dead**  
It had taken a bit of convincing before Dad finally let me forage in the forest like I had been doing for years. It wasn't as hard as I expected it to be the second time. Perhaps the threat from Negan served in persuading him the rest of the way. He wanted me to bring someone along, though, and insisted it was him but if I was given the choice I asked for Enid instead. She got me better and we worked well with one another. I didn't like working with Dad for the simple reason being that he was so freaking overprotective and I didn't want him to find out about my powerâ€¦ not yet at least.

Enid couldn't always come along though and it could sometime be really hard bringing as much as I could back at times. Twice Negan's men came to town and I was certain to give them their due, receiving the fresh goods I had gathered from the forest an earning his compliments of praise each time.

I hated it all, especially when he praised me. It turned my stomach to hear those words coming from him. With everything I found for _them_ it was less I could give to my people and that was what made the arrangement unbearable.

The next week on the day of their arrival, I turned into town with a heavy sack. I had caught a fat quail, raided a nest to find fifteen tiny spotted eggs, caught two decently sized bass, fished for mussels, found some greens, and gathered up a large basket of blackberries.

It wasn't as enjoyable as it normally was, since I knew it would all be given to the Saviors when they came and I tried not to let the sight of the food make my stomach growl with longing.

As I worked, I chewed on a hunk of pine. Other people disliked the taste and most ate it only when there was nothing else to eat, but me personally, I really liked the taste. I actually found it very enjoyable and listed it in my top favorite flavors. It reminded me of the forest and was a deep, fresh taste, even if it was hard to chew. And there were worse things I could have consumed, like cigarettes or alcohol.

When I approached the gate I spotted Gabrielle just as he was closing it.

"Judith." He said in surprise before switching directions to open it once more.

"Is Dad back already?" I asked, hoping greatly that he was. Instead, my heart sank as my irritation was realized.

"No, I'm afraid he's not." And I saw the large trucks before he had the chance to tell me. "Remember, be on your best manners." He warned me.

"Aren't I always?"

He gave me a look and I surrendered. He was the boss if none of my other bosses were presently in town.

"Alright, alright I'll behave."

Before I left he put a hand on my shoulder. "I want you to know, I hate this, Judith. I don't like having you in that man's presence."

"I hate it, too." I said, not meeting his gaze. "But it's better if it's me than someone else. I know you don't think that, but it really is."

And with that I shrugged his hand off and walked on towards the most heavily guarded house. I spotted Negan while he was talking to someone and as I neared I realized it was Spencer.

I felt some big red flags waving in my head at the sight of those two. Something definitely wasn't right about this. Why was Spencer talking with Negan?

It was probably a bad idea, most of the ideas I had seemed to be bad ones lately, but I couldn't stop myself from following at a safe distance, dodging behind shrubbery and trees to keep up as they strode down the street.

"I'm thinking..." Negan began as Spencer kept pace with him, "and I think about how Rick fucking threatened to kill me. How he clearly hates my fucking guts... but he's out there right now like a busy fucking bee... gathering shit to give me... on a leg that's still healing not to mention, so I don't hurt any of the nice folks living here, or worse, his kids; his badass kid son and his sweet, mouthy little girl so full of spunk and ballsiness. They're all swallowing that hatred to get shit done. That takes guts."

Now I knew why my dad was still alive then. Negan, on some twisted level, respected him.

He glanced back towards Spencer and continued. "Then I think about you... Spencer... the guy who waited until Rick was gone, to sneak over to talk to me to get _me_ to do his dirty work so that _he_ could take Rick's place."

Oh, so that's what it was then. That was typical. He was always calling every single one of Dad's decisions into question and they'd been butting heads for about as long as I could remember. Plus, I always felt that Spencer was spineless and here was the proof. Foolish traitor...

"If you wanted to take over why not just kill Rick and take the fuck over?" Negan asked.

I wanted to scoff. Michonne, Carl, Aaron and the rest would never allow it. Spencer would be dead before Dad hit the floor, and he didn't even have the stones to assassinate my father. He was a coward, that's why he was asking Negan to do it instead.

My thoughts snapped back as I caught something in his face just then. As Negan glanced sideways, eyeing Spencer with an odd expression while he answered his own question, just then. "You know why?"

Just then a looming dread swam over me and I could tell by the sudden glint in Negan's eye and the way his lip turned up that something terrible was about to happen.

Spencer didn't catch on as quickly while he struggled for an answer to Negan's question. "I don't... I didn't..."

But the question was actually rhetorical as he sneered at Spencer. "Because you got no guts!"

It was the fastest I had ever seen Negan move. I saw Spencer's intestines hit the ground before I knew what had happened.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

It was horrible. Red was everywhere, like someone had spilled a can of paint and threw it on Spencer as he lied on the sidewalk. Intestines as thick as vacuum tubing spread over the ground and the look in Spencer's face as he took his final breaths was forever frozen on his face.

My eyes traveled to the glinting knife in Negan's hand as it was catching the sun and my mind finally just registered what happened. It was quite possibly the worst thing I had ever seen in my life.

But I couldn't look away and neither could Negan, though he looked more entranced than horrified at the sight of it all.

"Oh how embarrassing!" He announced gleefully. "There they are! They were inside you the whole time. You did have guts. I've never been so wrong before in my life!" He made to turn away as he wiped his knife clean on a handkerchief one of his men handed to him. "Clean this up before a kid sees..."

He didn't finish that thought as he turned and saw me standing stiff and frozen nearby.

He looked surprised, actually surprised and even momentarily regretful, like that had been the absolute last thing he wanted to do.

"Ah fuck, Judy." He said pinching the bridge of his nose gallingly.

I didn't say a word. Without a single exchange I swung my pack around and threw the whole thing on the ground, letting the contents spill out and reminding me momentarily of a woven cornucopia. Before I heard anything else I sprinted away, intent on putting as much distance between me and that savage.

I wasn't going to go home, he'd find me there. Instead I charged towards the front gate. No one was guarding it for some reason so no one could open it in time. I think I might have been running a bit too fast for them to manage it anyways.

Years of being chased up trees by wild animals and climbing the wall on a weekly basis paid off as I skittered my sparse weight up the bars and leapt over the edge of the gate and the screened outer second. Some people yelled for me to come back right as I leapt it, but I ignored them. There were walkers on the other side and I landed on the face of one before kicking it sharply in the head, rendering it deader than before. There were a few others but I moved fast, dodging around the ambling ones that didn't dodge _first_ and I ducked into the forest before anyone could think twice. Later I would be grateful for the cover of the screened gate so no one would see the lone walker that darted away from me as I sprinted.

It felt safer in the forest. It was always safer in there. With people... with others... that's where the real danger was. That's where people died.

I ran and ran and kept running, stopping only when I reached the guards of the island.

There I stopped, leaning against the effigy of the great god.

"Hades," I gasped, panting and trying to swallow. When I calmed down enough I looked up at him. I didn't know what to say to the god of death about Spencer's passing. The man was spineless, sure, but even he didn't deserve to be gutted in such a graphic, horrible way. I turned from the god and followed the path into his army of dead.

Styx felt so quiet, but once over it, I leapt from the boat and sprinted up the path, shouting when I saw the edges of the garden.

"Vanessa? Are you here?"

"Judith?" I turned and she stood right in front of me, a look of concern on her face when she saw my anguished demeanor. I wanted to rush to her and bury my face in her beautiful housecoat, but I knew I would only burry my face in empty air. Instead I stood there, stiff and still as I sobbed at last. Her arms reached for me, but couldn't make contact.

"Oh! Oh, my little beetle. What happened?"

I couldn't speak. I was crying much too hard to get any words out, least nothing coherent.

"Come inside," She said, moving like she was trying to put an arm around me and lead me in. For a moment I imagined I could feel it, but I really couldn't.

She sat me down in the big cushioned armchair and I hugged one of the pillows tight as I tried to compose myself.

"When you're ready," Vanessa said patiently.

I sobbed a bit longer but when I calmed at last I told her what happened and I told her everything that had led to that moment prior, then I cried more after that.

Vanessa looked pityingly at me and attempted to console me once more. "Oh Beetle. I don't know what to say."

"I didn't see Spencer when he died. I mean, it wasn't like when Glenn and Abraham died. He just... wasn't there."

"Does everyone die the same?" She asked in her lesson tone when she wanted me to think critically and was testing me on something.

"No but I thought..."

"Spencer didn't have anyone here to look after. All his people were gone before he left. There was no reason to linger."

"But he wanted to be the new leader. Wouldn't he stay for a while at least?"

"He was not suitable." She said simply. "It was not his true passion. I'm sure the idea buzzed in his head quite a lot but it didn't live in his heart. His mother was the leader and somehow he thought that that made him fit for the task."

I hugged the pillow tighter. "It feels wrong to talk about him now. I don't mind talking about the living, but the dead... they might hear."

"He's moved on." She told me matter-of-factly.

"And you're sure about that?"

"Well if he were around here I'd know. When you're dead and lingering you feel things so differently. You can sense spirits easier. The body you have tends to act a bit like a muffler so you can't really feel someone the way a ghost can."

I thought about her words, but my thoughts kept returning to the debacle I was caught in.

Out of instinct I curled up with my knees pressed to my chest. "I wish... I wish John were here." I whimpered, my mind flying to my other teacher for the first time in ages. "I... I miss him so much."

"Oh... I do, too, Little Beetle." She reached for me, and I could tell by the longing in her expression she wished dearly that she could hold me if just to offer better comfort than she had to give. Her gaze lingered on me, gentle and sympathetic as she thought.

"What do I do, Vanessa?" I begged pitifully, tears pouring so profoundly from my eyes. "I don't know what to do. I feel so... lost."

She was quiet for so long that for a time I was afraid she would have no answers for me. Finally, she leaned forward. "Come with me."

Wiping up my face, I got to my feet and followed her up the stairs to her bedroom. I rarely ever went up there. Even if she was dead and she didn't technically need it, it felt intrusive to invade her private room without permission.

Inside was a little bed shoved in the far left corner under a round window and spread with white sheets and a fan quilt. A chest stood at the foot of the bed. Aside from it was a bedside table with an old oil lamp and next to that a tall bookshelf. In the opposite corner was an old vanity and on the other side of that was a chifferobe filled entirely with Vanessa's old clothes. The room opened up to a set of French glass doors that led to the bathroom and water closet. A beautiful porcelain bath stood to the left while off in the right corner was a sort of closet for the toilet and sink.

No matter how many times I visited this island I always managed to be impressed by the sophisticated beauty.

Vanessa drew close to the opposite wall facing the bed where a set of shelves nailed into the beams stood.

"Are you stronger?" Vanessa asked me and I knew she was referring to the first time we met when I was told to drag her body out and dig a grave for her. I was no less skinny than that meek little mouse, but I was much stronger than her now.

"Yes."

"Then take down the things from that second shelf."

I obeyed and when the shelf was all cleared I found an odd indent in the wall, like a door that had been cleverly hidden behind the items and books.

"Open it."

I found the notch and pulled hard. There was a creaking groan as it swung open, trailing cobwebs and dust as it moved for the first time in decades it seemed. I coughed, swatting away the dust and peering curiously inside this secret panel. Anything that needed to be locked away had to be something very important.

It was a book; an ancient tome with the impression of a winding twisted tree on the leather cover and a glyph on its spine that looked like planets and moons in their different phases.

"Bring it here, won't you?"

I picked it up and I could tell by the strange prickling in my fingers this was, without a doubt, something important _and_ powerful. It was also heavy, more so than the other books I had read from the house. I nearly tottered over the side of the chair as its full weight slid into my arms and threatened to compromise my balance. Carefully I hopped down and dropped it gently on the wooden chest where Vanessa was seated.

She looked at the book with a strange mix of fear, disgust, and respect. Her hand hovered over the tome as she spoke carefully.

"Of all the texts, of all the spells, this is the most cursed."

"It's a curse book? Like the locked part of the spell book you showed me?"

He gaze looked very stern as she looked at me. "No... not like that."

She had my complete attention now as I gazed down at the thing with rapt attention. Unlike the Book of Shadows Vanessa often taught me from me this was something else entirely.

"What is it?" I said in the same hushed voice she carried.

"Forbidden. The Poetry of Death." Then her gaze turned gravely to me. "If ever the day comes when my Little Beetle is crushed and beaten, if whatever gods she trusts in abandons her completely, only then does she open it. And on that day she will never be the same. She will have gone away from God and mercy... forever."

I could feel the weight of her words stronger and heavier than the book itself and I could tell by her tone, this thing would cost me my soul to read from. It could offer me vengeance on my enemies if I wished it now, but I still wasn't ready to risk such a price. this was power that would snake behind any shield or spell of protection and render it entirely useless.

"Did you read from this?" I asked.

She took her time to answer. "I did. And it has forever changed me and my soul. I spoke the spells to cast one I hated into pain and suffering and the worse of that curse fell on my shoulders. Remember Little Beetle, the body's suffering is all but temporary, but the soul's suffering is eternal. You remember what I said about curses, yes?"

I flinched, bitter memories of various failed curses on Negan rising as I repeated her words from my first few months of tutelage under her. "When you cast a curse you curse two. You curse the enemy and you curse you."

"The most important rule." She hissed desperately.

"Why did you show me this?" I asked. It didn't seem to be in relation to the problems I was facing at the moment.

"To show you what could happen to people who become lost and desperate enough to resort to unnatural methods--to vengeance. To remind you what could happen to you--what you could become. Were you to take this in your hands and speak the words within, you would become as dark as your friend Glenn has turned into."

"Darker than that?"

"Worse than that."

"But you read from this book and _you're_ not like that."

"I paid a terrible cost by reading these incantations. I suffered in a way you are still too young to clearly understand. It took me an entire century to reform my soul and even after that, the darkness that came from it still lingers on my spirit; like a bloody stain on a silk dress. Never able to be scrubbed out no matter how well I wash it."

"But you don't seem evil or tainted to me."

"You have yet to see me at my worst." She turned towards the wall looking towards some distant point that remained unseen by me. "What I'm trying to warn you about is in the near future some very horrible things may come to pass to you or your family. I've shown this to you because I want you to understand what darkness is coming and the evil it brings, but I do not want you to linger in it. Even so, as God gave Adam and Eve a choice I must give one to you as well."

I stared at the tome entranced by the enormous twisted tree on the cover of it and tempted for the slightest of moments.

"Is this really a choice or a temptation?" I asked, feeling suddenly repulsed by this thing.

"It is a possibility." She corrected. "A road. A dark and treacherous road. It might lead you to safety but it is fleeting and the house you find is bleak and cold and full of things that bump and slither in the night. I was weak and allured by those dark things, seduced into the strong embrace of those choices before they stung me in the back. Be stronger than the Scorpion, Little Beetle. Wear your armor thick, and keep in the sun where you belong.

"And always be true."

* * *

**Author's Notes: A lot of references from Penny Dreadful today. If you haven't seen the series I recommend it. Like the Walking Dead, it's going to be very graphic; lots of blood and guts and things that bump in the night.**

**As always your comments are appreciated and I love hearing from you guys. :D**


	16. Babes in the Woods

**Chapter 16**  
 **Babes in the Woods**  
I couldn't seem to summon the courage to go home. The peace and security of the island was far too comforting to leave and enter the frightful aura back in Alexandria, especially with our present company. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the mess of Spencer's guts spilling all over the pavement and the look in Negan's eyes as he looked down at it all.

But if I didn't go back soon, Dad would send out a search party and people would be put in danger because of me. Or maybe with luck, he wouldn't bother with one, figuring I was resourceful enough not to worry too much. I sincerely hoped so. He knew about the island. Perhaps he would think I'd go there.

I kept that in mind as I tried to take my mind off of the murder today. To distract myself, I passed the time by listening to Bianca on a windup radio. Most of what she said was unheard as I tried to settle down.

"So remember everyone, having outer and inner walls is a good thing." She announced over the miles and miles separating her from her listeners. "Even having dividers between your living areas, fields, and livestock has proven to be very beneficial. I know it's a lot more work but in the long run it's observed to be safer as well as a good fallback in case parts of your barriers fail. That way if there's a massive horde that's broken through you can retreat into inner walls and the casualty rates will be minimal."

"Another thing that's always good to have: booby traps. Explosives and pitfalls can be very reliable to set up around the perimeter of your community and outer walls. Not just for corpses but for enemies as well. Never feel it's overkill to be prepared for attackers. I don't know how many times I've heard of people or communities that were attacked and overrun simply for being unprepared for things like that. Even if it feels excessive, trust me-it's not.

"Just keep in mind to mark them accordingly for your people. This way you can at least avoid future accidents. If they trick a person they'll trick a corpse. Bells and windchimes can be used to lure corpses from your walls, so if you feel like booby traps seem a bit too dangerous especially if there's a lot of people coming in and out, see if strategically spaced bells work for you."

She went on and I listened half-heartedly. Most of what she said was stuff I'd heard before. There were a few traps around the town as she described, including some diversion methods like blockades and ditches that walkers tended to fall in, so we were a bit more prepared than Bianca needed to tell us. Out of boredom, I turned the station off and sat in silence in the specious bedroom.

I curled up on the bed with the curse book still on the chest at the foot of it. Vanessa sat beside me, sometimes filling the silence with a lullaby as I lied there.

When I was young  
And scared of the world  
My mother would sing me a song  
A tune that I keep in a sacred place  
'Cause I know that my life won't be long  
It tells of the place where you go  
When your time here on earth is through  
A beautiful place we call heaven  
Is it true?  
Please God I pray that it's true

'Cause once this land was heaven on earth  
Green hills were all you could see  
But now it's soot and steel and brick  
So it looks more like hell to me  
And each day brings more and more suffering  
And each night is silence and fear  
And I wake to the sound of your voice  
But you're not here  
Why oh why aren't you here?

So now I lay me down to sleep  
I pray the lord my soul to keep  
Please let me die before I wake  
So the lord my soul, can take  
Then maybe I'll finally find you  
'Midst the beauty of paradise  
And you'll sing not of dying but living  
Wouldn't that be nice?  
Wouldn't that be nice?

I drifted a bit into a restless sleep with dreams of my innards spilling from my stomach and demons dancing over my lifeless body. When I woke again it was dim in the room and the sun was setting. In the back of my mind I knew Dad was going to be furious that I had stayed out so late.

With that to consider I got up and left the island, saying a reluctant goodbye to Vanessa as I left. I didn't want to go. I was afraid that Negan would be waiting for me back home and would mock me for running after seeing Spencer's demise. Or worse, he would... he might...

Okay, in total honesty I wasn't sure what he would do and the uncertainty of that terrified me most. I would have rather stayed on the island to wait for my dad to come and get me when the warlord was gone, but I knew it was much more dangerous for him to wander out if he didn't have to than it was for me. So I left my sanctuary and turned home once more.

The wind picked up the moment I was on the other side and I saw heavy rainclouds moving in. I pulled the cloak closer and walked hastily.

Thunder rumbled above my head and the air became charged, preparing for rain. I tried to pick up my pace but the forest seemed to groan nervously as the beat of the leaves in the wind drowned out all thought inside my head other than the desperate need to make it back home before something toppled on me.

And then the rain came.

It started first as a light sprinkle then turned into a downpour. I was soaked in seconds and no matter how tightly I held my cloak, the rain seeped through. Thankfully it wasn't freezing, only wet and irksome. My cowgirl boots filled with water and every step I took felt like I was carrying puddles around.

I could hear walkers roaming a few yards away, gathered in a herd and ambling no closer to me than necessary.

Thunder roared above and the strange dead stopped just then, tottering in circles as they gazed up at the clouds. The sounds seem to attract them greatly but it also confused them. They saw the sparks in the sky and even reached mindlessly for the lightning, but I could tell they were unable to figure out how to reach the source of activity.

For the first time I stopped to consider these soulless creatures.

What did the world look like to them?

They were people once, with thoughts and feeling and ambitions and dreams. But not anymore. Now they just existed.

We all knew they were mindless starving monsters, intent to search out and devour anything that moved or made any kind of soundâ€¦ well anything except me.

I leaned against a tree, blinking through the rain as I watched them till one seemed to sense my presence and looked towards me. It hovered for a small thoughtful moment before turning its feet around and following a different path that lead in the opposite direction. A few others noticed its change and looked only once towards me before following their companion's flight. Others further away merely followed the crowd when it began moving again, like a flock of sheep.

I sighed, feeling the weight of this strange power pin me where I stood, watching them disappear.

Why was I different? Why didn't they hurt me, or dare come near me? What was I?

I moved to turn from these things when suddenly a hand slapped over my mouth and lifted me off my feet. Instinctively I kicked out, screaming hard into the gag as my body flailed wildly.

Whoever held me seemed to know what they were doing. They took no time in slamming me hard against a tree, where I was pinned and helpless against the two solid bodies.

" _I know what you are_!" A sinister guttural voice hissed in my ear. From the sound of it I guessed my attacker was female. " _I've watched you for weeks_!"

My heart leapt in my throat and I felt pure blind panic clog all my senses as I worked to free myself from this maniac.

" _Able to control the dead, can you?"_ She hissed. " _Well you'll be coming with me now. The Wolves will make good use of you, little witch_!"

Oh god! OH GOD!

I couldn't think of anything other than to fight. My hand reached for it before my thoughts did. Metal sang, my arm tore forward, and the one behind me screamed loud as the edge of a blade slashed through her gut. Her iron grip on me left and I slipped to the ground in a slosh of water, blinking through the rain as I turned around.

Now that I had a better look at her, I surveyed this mad woman. She had tangled dirty hair the color of rust. She was thin and her face was gaunt and even in the downpour I could see that it was caked with dirt and other filth. Her hands grasped the place I had stuck her and she growled low as she looked at the blood.

"You little bitch!" She hissed, reaching towards me with one hand while the other held her bleeding side.

Without thought I slashed the knife again, cutting her in the space between her forefinger and thumb. She roared again trying to dive towards me, but I rolled. My boots slipped on mud as I scrambled to my feet and sprinted away, running blind.

"Get back here!" The woman screamed, sprinting after me.

My legs hammered the ground while my heart hammered in my chest. The woman's legs were much longer than mine and I knew she would have outran me if I hadn't had the good sense to maim her first.

In my panic to keep ahead of her I didn't realize I was running away from Alexandria until something stepped in my path and I collided with another solid body. Hands pinned my arms to their sides and wrestled my knife away from me.

"NO!" I screamed, feeling my weapon being yanked from my hand.

I heard other voices and watched more people step out from behind trees. They carried knives and spears and looked like wild men as they moved in.

Stupid me! I should have known that wolves hunted in packs!

"You got her?" One asked.

"I got her! Little brat's putting up a big fight, though."

"Get control on her. We can't let-,"

He was interrupted just then as my piercing scream cut through all sound and I doubled my efforts to work out of the grip ensnaring me.

"Shut up! You're going to-,"

He trailed off as a walker ambled up the path, attracted by the activity, just as I intended. More were coming up the path behind it and lightning cracked the sky, illuminating the herd as it moved forward.

"Fuck!" Someone hissed. "Brat's called in the reinforcements!"

With them distracted, my hand dipped into my boot and pulled out my second knife concealed inside. It dug into the thigh of the man behind me and he yelled out as his grip on me loosened and I pulled away, sprinting once again. I dove into the herd, putting space between me and the wolves in the safety of the flesh eaters.

There were various yells and cries of fear as I was lost within and the herd advanced on my assailants. I could hear the clang of the weapons as they fought through the bodies but the thickness of the crowd kept me safe from their pursuit again.

I ran and ran, unable to tell where I was headed anymore, but knowing that I needed to put as much distance between me and the hunters as I could. The rain beat on me, and splashed in my face, making visibility impossible as I kept running. The boom of thunder clapped above and the trees groaned in a wordless threat.

Just then I heard snaps and something cracked loudly. I turned and watched as a massive black shadow dove towards me. I felt arms and nails rake my skin as I screamed, throwing me to the ground where I was pinned and unable to move.

...And then there was nothing.

* * *

My own hacking coughs woke me up, heaving through a throat on fire. There was water on my face and my whole body shivered with a freezing cold. I coughed again, feeling mud and grass and rocks on my back as something like branches and leaves scratched my face. My eyes fluttered opened, staring up at dying leaves and the blue sky seeping through them. I could feel a near crushing weight pinning me where I lied, unmoving and constricting. Upon further inspection I realized it was a fallen tree, the same that I had mistaken for a body attacking me the night before.

I coughed more, trying to get air into my burning lungs. My mouth was dry and I felt dehydrated. The moment I was free I would need to find water. I struggled in the branchy cage, worming my arms free to grip at the bough pinned on my chest and pushed hard. There was something gripping me around my ankle, making it difficult in working myself free. Taking a moment to regain my energy I breathed carefully before bracing once more and forcing my body out. I felt my ankle twist and a sharp pain lit under the skin, where I knew something had moved in a way it shouldn't have.

I yelped sharply, but stifled any other sounds of pain as my mind went to the events of the night before, fearing my hunters may have been lurking around the nearest bush.

Wincing, I used the majority of my strength to work onto my belly and crawled the rest of the way out of the tree. My attention was focused more on my pained ankle and the need to get free of these branches as fast as possible was so much, that I failed to see the twig that cut me right along the forehead and another that poked me in the eye.

I whimpered, stopping momentarily to palm the cut and wipe away the blood and tears the best I could before resuming my first mission. The end of the tunnel was in sight and I crawled through dirt, mud, leaves, and braches before finally, finally breaking through to freedom.

I tumbled through the opening, coughing and whimpering more as I took in the results of the storm from last night. The size of the tree that I had been trapped under made me shiver involuntary while I gawked by how close to death I had come. There was no doubt that I had been born under some _real_ lucky stars.

Thankfully you don't feel pain when you are dead and the wounds all over my body was proof enough of that I was still very much alive and I was grateful for every bruise, scratch, gash, and ache in my whole body.

Once again, I marveled on the shear madness of it.

I should have been dead. I _actually_ should have been dead.

But I was I was alive; alive to tell this tale so long as I acted quickly.

My eyes scanned the area, searching for something I could use to help me. Then I saw my savior: wild catnip.

Tearing off a large handful I balled it up and held it against my forehead. It soothed instantly and after patting it down a bit more the bleeding began to slow. I looked in my pockets and found my handkerchief. Folding it in a triangle, I padded it with some of the herb and wrapped it around my scalp.

Then my attention turned to my ankle. It smarted with every move I made. Best case scenario, it was only sprained; worse case it was broken, but I was fairly sure it wasn't the latter. Still, I would need to keep as much weight off of it as I could. I scavenged a bit around and hacked off a strong enough branch that would serve as my crutch for me to amble back home.

But that might have been a slight problem.

I couldn't know how to get home if I didn't even know where I was. During the night, I had been so focused on escaping my attackers that I hadn't paid any mind to where I was going and nowâ€¦ this whole part of the forest looked entirely unfamiliar to me.

With dread it dawned on me that I was lost.

"Okay, calm down," I told myself, before I was about to panic. "If you can make it to a road it will lead you back to the safe zone and you can find home back that way. Easy-peezy."

I started walking, guided a bit by a passing herd. Sure walkers were dumb but they seemed to have a set of strange instincts that almost felt like it led them to people, a kind of mental compass or sixth sense, in a way. Plus there was the added safety with being in their crowd that made it so I didn't have to worry so much about other people approaching, like the Wolves.

Of course the herd looked to get away as soon as they caught sight of me, but I just followed them and hoped they would lead me towards signs of civilization.

The sky eventually rumbled above and I knew another storm was coming. Moments later the rain came.

I was starving and thirsty and while I bent my head up to take in the water offered to me, it did little to silence the need for something solid in my belly. There was plenty of pine in the walkers' path and I tore away the outer bark of a tree and carved out a good sized chunk, chewing it hungrily. I also found some wild onion and a few shaggy mane mushrooms.

It would have been nice to cook them with meat, but I couldn't plan for things nor time I didn't have. I was pressed to get home as soon as possible and cooking something was going to take more time than I wanted to waste.

"Dad is going to kill me," I muttered chewing up the onion. I tried not to imagine the look of worry and outrage he was bound to hold when I arrived home, I just wanted to get back as soon as possible to get that episode over with before he sent a search party out for me.

Eventually I split away from the herd when I spotted a road and followed that in the direction I predicted would take me back home. The rain continued to beat and I shivered, wanting out of the downpour. I had already been freezing and wet when I woke and my wool cloak did little to warm me when it was so wet and heavy. I tried jogging, thinking that I could maybe find a car and use that to take shelter in until the rain had gone. Instead I found a bridge, which was probably the best roof I was going to find.

There was immediate relief in me when I dove under it. I wrung out my clothes and leaned against the wall, sliding down and resting my bad leg. Just then scuffling sounded behind me and I leapt back up, brandishing my crutch, instantly prepared for a fight.

My thoughts had jumped to the Wolves, thinking they had followed me again and when I saw the state of the strangers I first assumed they really were those animals; that or I believed they were walkers since they resembled corpses more than anything else. But their movement suggested otherwise and when I got a better look at them, I saw three frightened dirty children huddled together, staring back at me with wide terror-filled eyes.

They were quite possibly the dirtiest, most ragged, most frightened things I had ever seen. Blood coated them from head to foot and I deduced that it may have been from walkers. It was a trick people used in case they ever got cornered or needed to escape through a herd. Though the people I knew rarely resorted to methods like that, keeping in mind that these things could very well carry diseases and other harmful pathogens that just may end up killing them later rather than sooner. And even when they did, it was wiser to use a poncho made from old blankets or sheets rather that painting the blood directly on the skin. Kids like these though, may not have considered something like that.

I addressed them with caution, just in case they acted as feral as they looked.

"Hey..." I said, unable to think of anything smarter than that. They looked skinny and half starved. I still had some onion on me and more of the mushrooms.

"Are... are you hungry?" I tried offering the greens to them. Just to show I was in their confidence and wasn't planning on poisoning them, I nibbled a bit off of one of the stalks to show that it was alright. They didn't come any closer, so I inched carefully towards them, leaving the food in the center between us all. Then I scooted back to my place, waiting for them to move. The older one seemed wary, but maybe her need for food won out over her fear, because she untangled from the other two and approached the offering with caution. Her eyes never left me though, mindful that it could have been a trick and unwilling to trust strangers even if I myself was a child.

Smart girl.

She picked up the mushroom I had nibbled off of and took a bite of it. A moment went by while she waited, maybe for some trick she predicted I was playing long enough for a poison to take effect. When nothing happened she picked up the rest and brought it back to her companions.

I watched them divide the miniscule bit between them equally and gobble it all down in moments before I turned back into the rain. A few minutes later I returned with more wild onions, pine and as an added bonus I was able to find some gooseberries as well. I spread it all out before them, tasting a bit of everything to let them know it was all safe.

Feeling a bit more trusting they didn't wait for me to back away but scooted closer to inspect the finds. Once they started eating I was able to get a better look at them. Even as dirty as they all were I could see the resemblance they all had with one another and concluded that they must have been siblings.

The oldest was a girl I estimated to be about my age. The second was another girl that was maybe five and when I viewed her a bit closer my heart clenched at the sight of a twisted lip she tried to hide behind the curtain of her jaw-length hair. My pity didn't end there however, when I caught sight of the third, I had to real back tears. The last child was a little boy that couldn't have been a year older than two and struggled to eat with his left hand as I saw his right was missing, hidden by his sleeve as the girl hid her face in her hair.

What on earth had they been, through?

I attempted to talk to them to see if they understood, but they didn't respond other than to watch me carefully, like wild animals observing a man with a weapon.

Even when I spoke clearly, they made no indication to suggest they grasped my words. Perhaps then they didn't know English.

I understood that people in different parts of the world spoke different languages, but there were none here that I knew of, and to travel so far from your own land and mother tongue under the conditions of the world and countless threats presented was near impossible. And for three children on their own...

Something moved behind us just then and I saw a walker stumble down the hill to approach the bridge. We all turned to it but when I looked back they were already running away. Yet just as they dodged out the opposite end, two more walkers stepped in their way, gnashing their teeth and ready to bite into all three.

I dove forward, ignoring the discomfort in my ankle as I came to their aid, swinging my stick at the monsters and putting myself between them and the children.

The walker nearest stopped in his pursuit and stared its empty eyes at me before it moved away. Its companions followed it and once more there was silence under the bridge. I could feel the eyes of the children on my back and I looked over at them to see all their mouths hanging open. Then our attentions turned once more towards movement and we watched as more and more walkers stumbled across the path. The children behind me tensed some more, but I was sure to keep myself always in the line of sight with the walkers, discouraging their hunger immediately.

There must have been a hundred in that single herd as they all ambled passed, each taking only a single look under the bridge towards me before deciding against entering and going on their way.

When there was silence at last the children looked up at me as if looking on an alien space craft. There were mixed emotions of amazement and fear on their faces and they moved a bit closer, eased by my strange power.

The rain didn't let up at all through the rest of the day, only grew harder, cascading down the bridge in great harsh waterfalls. Thunder clapped loud, shaking the foundation of our makeshift shelter. I was able to build us a small fire out of wood that was already under the bridge and we huddled around it as the day grew dark again. A few times a walker or two poked their heads under the bridge, attracted by the light of the fire before diving back into the rain once they caught sight of me.

It was sometime after what I thought was sunset when the small trickling stream the bridge crossed over began to flood dangerously and we all had to move before being swept away by the rising current. The children carried only one bag with them; an old duffel worn with holes and questionable stains.

We all trudged through the storm, bundling ourselves up the best we could as we searched for a new shelter. Finally we came across a set of cars. Two of them had walkers in them and I didn't feel like opening them just to spend the night in the death-smelling compartments they were rotting in. Thankfully the third one was unoccupied and we were all able to pile inside to wait out the storm.

I got comfortable in the front of the old minivan while the three others folded down the seats in the back and curled up with the single blanket they carried in their duffel. We ate more from the berries and greens I had gathered but it wasn't a whole lot in retrospect, and in only a few bites it was all gone. We settled in as it grew darker and darker. Every now and then the children would tense as they heard the sounds of the occasional passing walker, but they'd duck under their blanket and remain quiet as we waited for them to pass.

I kept watch for a while, but it seemed obvious that we weren't bound to find any travelers on the road in this weather, so I settled in and drifted for a while. I was so exhausted that my dreams were empty and held only the darkness behind my lids.

Sometime in the night, though, I was roused by sobbing. I looked over and saw the little girl crying where she lay. It was quiet though, like she didn't want to wake the other two. I shifted in my seat to turn towards her, reaching a hand out and rubbing her back gently.

She turned cautiously around to face me, tears sparkling in her eyes.

"It's okay," I said gently. "It was just a nightmare."

She sniffed and reached for their bag, digging out a rusted music box with a pair of mice painted on the top of the lid. She wound it up and a lullaby filled the space in the small vehicle compartment.

I recognized the tune and hummed a bit of it with the hopes that maybe it would sooth her better.

"If I had words to make a day for you  
I'd sing you a morning golden and new

I would make this day last for all times  
Give you a night deep in moonshine"

The song was short but the girl listened intently all the same. She let me finish my words before singing out her version in an entirely different language. Even with her twisted lip, her voice was like nothing I'd ever heard. It was clear and rich and sweet. It was like the voice of an angel.

I snag out once more, but felt a little self conscious about my own voice now, mindful that there were notes that sounded shaky and flat. But she didn't seem to mind and she finished in that same language as before. When the music box wound to an end there was nothing but the rain to fill the silence and the frequent thunder rumbling above.

I looked down at her, realizing just then that I never properly introduced myself to them. It was apparent that they didn't understand English so I pointed to my chest and said only one word.

"Judith."

She looked at me, her head tilting in bewilderment.

"Judith," I repeated pointing more firmly towards my chest.

She was quiet for a moment but then seemed to understand what I was trying to say. She pointed to her own chest and announced, "Tanti," back to me.

"Tanti," I repeated, "That's pretty."

Then she pointed to her brother and sister. "Luis. Mari."

"Tanti, Luis, and Mari." I repeated back, showing her I understood.

She smiled her marred smile and pointed back towards me in understanding, "Judith."

"Yep," I announced looking whimsically back at her. "That's me. Judith."

She settled back down, her eyes resting on me before they fluttered closed and she was asleep once more, lulled by the rain and the storm outside.

* * *

**Author's notes: the first song is the Lullaby from the last episode of Penny Dreadful, sung in the credits. Tanti's lullaby is If I had Words, inspired from the movie Babe, although the original was sung by Scott Fitzgerald and Yvonne Keeley back in I think the seventies.**

**I wanted to work some more Bianca in here since she's been mentioned so little for someone who will be important later as the story develops.**

**Tanti, Mari, and Luis are all OCs created by me... well sort of. We'll get more into that next chapter.**

**If I get a few more reviews this time around I'll post another chapter a bit earlier. I love every single comment you guys send me and enjoy hearing your thoughts. Sometimes though, it can be a bit discouraging when you work on a project for an extended period of time, spend so much time editing and revising it to make sure it all makes sense, and then there ends up being so little feedback on it. I know that's no one's fault and it should be enough to write something simply because I want to write what I enjoy and just because it gets _me_ excited doesn't mean it'll be mutual for others. **

**Still, if you I can throw me a comment it makes everything that much more encouraging. I luv ya all and hope you guys liked the new chapter.**


	17. Creatures of Joy and Woe

**Chapter 17**   
**Creatures of Joy and Woe**

_Joy and Woe are woven fine,_  
_A clothing for the soul divine,_  
_Under every grief and pine,_  
_Runs a joy with silken twine,_  
_It is right it should be so,_  
_We were made for joy and woe,_  
_And when this we rightly know,_  
_Through the world we safely go._

_~by William Blake, December 2005_

* * *

When the rain had stopped the next morning the road was a mess of fallen branches and trees littering everywhere. One or two walkers lined the area, pinned by debris and reaching out for some way to work free and keep on wondering in search of living meat like they hungered for.

It wasn't hard to convince the three children to come with me. They seemed to understand that the dead weren't going to come near me and as such it was safest at my side verses braving the wilds on their own. I think it may have also worked by being a child myself and they were able to trust someone near their ages easier than they were an adult. It was just safest that way.

In their shoes, I would probably think the same.

Of course, they didn't wear shoes or even proper coats and when I observed their feet I noticed cuts, dirt and blisters marring them from their toes to their ankles. Before continuing, I kicked off my own boots and put them on Mari. For Tanti, I took off my cloak and wrapped it around her, keeping her warm in the damp morning air. For our footwear, I tore up part of the upholstery from the car seats and wrapped them over her feet and my own. That at least provided some form of cushioning while we walked. I offered to carry their bag for them as well, but they wouldn't part from it. The little they had in all the world was in that bag and I didn't blame them for wanting to keep it with them.

I hobbled along the road on my crutch with them in tow walking close to my side. Mari carried their little brother and after a time Tanti reached out to hold my hand as we walked. It was nice and I didn't shrug her off but looked down and smiled to her.

In time we reached a road I recognized.

"Only three more miles to go." I announced to my traveling companions. We were already tired and had to stop between every half-mile for breaks before the walls of Alexandria came into view. I could see someone on the lookout just as they spotted me and yelled out to open the gate.

I picked up the pace and when the screen and bars began to slide back revealing my father sprinting towards me, I released my grip on my crutch and the girl's hand to limp rapidly towards him.

The moment he reached me all the weight on my bad leg left as I was lifted into his arms. I thought I would be crushed by how hard he held me, and I was unashamed to say that if that was how I was going to die, caringly crushed by someone I loved, that was alright with me; until I realized I really needed air to appreciate it.

"Dad... Dad..." I wheezed, patting him on the shoulder. "You're crushing me."

He squeezed me once more before loosening his grip enough to look me over.

"Are you alright? Are you okay?"

"Yeah... yeah I'm fine. Is... is Negan gone?" I asked hesitantly my mind flitting back to the blood and the guts and the look of horror on Spencer's face while he died and then the grin on Negan's while he watched.

Relief flooded my senses when my dad nodded. "Yes."

I sighed and then I noticed my companions off to the side. "I made some new friends." I told him. He put me down and I leaned against him as I introduced them. They seemed to huddle up though, wary of this intimidating newcomer. They only eased after they had seen the heartfelt exchange between us. So I assumed they predicted our relationship and could figure out this wasn't someone they needed to be afraid of.

"This is Tanti, Mari, and Luis." I announced.

Dad attempted a smile for them and I led them in by the hand.

The children were well received by the town. Kids were so rare to find these days, there were only about fourteen in the whole town and new young faces were greatly welcomed.

First we went to the infirmary where Olivia and Heath looked over our injuries. I really did have a sprain which they wrapped in a cast. I was ordered to stay off my feet for a few weeks, something I was not looking forward to but knew it was for my own good either way. Thankfully I wouldn't need stitches for the cut above my eye, and I was commended for the insight to apply the catnip on it as they dressed it with proper bandages now.

Afterwards the other children were looked over. During the examination I stood by to show them that nothing bad was about to happen to them. I stayed within sight and that seemed to ease their anxiety, so long as they could stay to watch after their siblings.

They were deeply malnourished and had several infections on their feet, where blisters and welts had developed. The boy's hand seemed to have been clumsily chopped off, probably due to a walker bite some time ago. It looked even worse than I imagined now that it was unwrapped; like a branch that had been caught in a wood chipper.

Heath suggested getting him to Hilltop, where the surgeon was so they could perform an operation to make it look a little less... butchered. For the moment they could only do their best.

After a while we decided it might have been easier if they were bathed first and I volunteered to look after them while they did so. After all, I myself was in need of a good wash and chose to lead them to my house to get that squared away. Michonne helped as we cautiously went about it. At first I offered to let them handle it on their own, but Tanti didn't want me to leave and took my hand desperately as an indication to make me stay.

I had never seen a sorrier sight than those children without their clothes. They were dirty, grimy, and so thin they were more bone than anything else. Their whole bodies were covered with welts and scars, revealing that they had been severely beaten by their previous guardians. Their situation, whatever it had been, must have been bad enough that they would rather risk death from exposure or walkers than stay in whatever conditions they lived in before.

I wanted to cry at the sight of it all, but I reeled it in till they were finished.

Afterwards when they were cleaned, dressed, and their wounds had been handled properly we all sat down at the dining table and were given some light broth and bread to eat. I could certainly handle a bit more, but the others weren't able to stomach anything stronger than that.

Michonne told me that eating would be hard for them until they were able to work up their appetites again and it was going to be some time before they regained their strength for it. Their road to recovery was expected to be very long and hard.

"We'll need to figure out a place for them to stay." Dad told me.

"They can have my room." I offered immediately. "I'll sleep on the couch."

He traded a look with Michonne.

"It... could work for a few days," She suggested, "just until we find something more permanent for them."

He paused, but eventually nodded. "Alright. If you want to get them set up, that would be fine."

I led them up to my room once they were done eating. The moment they were all tucked in on the soft mattress they were out, curled up close and snoring lightly.

With them sleeping, I was at last able to take care of my own needs. It always amazed me what a hot shower and some clean clothes can do for someone after being through a traumatic and exhausting experience. I did feel much better and later when I set my bed up downstairs my dad came down to talk to me.

This was the moment I had been anticipating. Here was where he was bound to lecture and shout at me for running off and making him worry.

I didn't look at his face while I braced for it, but then he surprised me.

His hand came to rest on my shoulder and squeezed it gently.

"I'm proud of you." He said from out of nowhere.

Stunned by this odd development, my head shot back to gaze at him.

"You--you're proud of me?" I repeated unable to believe this development. "But I thought for sure you were going to be furious and ground me again."

Dad just smiled.

"I thought so, too." He admitted. "You were gone for two whole days and when I didn't find you at the island I was scared shitless that I was going to find you dead... or worse. Then those two storms blew in and it took Carl, Michonne, and Aaron together to keep me from running straight into all of it to find you. You scared me to death, Judith."

My head bowed in shame at the sound of his anguished tone. "I'm so sorry, Dad. I swear I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't, but if you hadn't gotten lost you would never have found those kids and they would either still be wondering around on their own or they'd be dead. Lesser people might've even left them to die, but you led them back here and for that they're alive because of it."

"I just... did what was right."

"You did, and I'm proud of you for that." Then he took a big breath of air as he mentally prepared himself for the next thing he said, "Which is why... I've decided to let you apprentice with Aaron and me."

My mouth dropped as I looked back at him, voice squeaking in disbelief as if certain I had misheard him "Whaaaaaaaat!"

Dad went on, smiling a bit by my tone and expression. "I think it's time you started learning a trade and I think this is your calling. Summer break is coming in a few weeks, which gives you plenty of time for that ankle to heal. By then, you should be able to start work."

I couldn't find the words. I wasn't even sure if this was really happening. The blanket I had been spreading over the couch dropped from my hands as my crutch and one good leg moved me around the room in a hurried pace.

"This is--is this really happening? Are you serious? Am I really doing this? Ohmygosh! I'm... I don't have words! This is happening!" Then I looked back at him, stunned and hopeful. "Are you serious? Are you seriously serious?"

His hands clasped mine and it was then I felt the true gentleness of his strength in them. "I am. I see now I can't stop you from going out there. I could try, but that'd probably be useless and not very productive. Michonne and I talked more about it and I think this is the best way." He put his hands on my shoulders and stared straight into my eyes. "You're a provider and a warrior, Judith Grimes, and you chose to be those things without anyone telling you to, and I know you will always put your people first. If you keep following this path, someday you will even become a great leader and when that day comes I want to be there to see it."

There were no words I could think of to adequately describe the joy in me. A lump formed in my throat and tears sparkled in my eyes as I wrapped my arms around him and there seemed to be only one thing I could say to tell him what this meant to me.

"Daddy..."

* * *

Over the next few weeks the same time it took for my ankle to heal I used that time to get to know the new additions of our community.

I started calling them the Waifs and it seemed like the nickname took pretty well with everyone. Their recovery was slow going as they began to build up the fat and muscle they had lost during their time of abuse from their former keepers and travels through the wilds. I encouraged them as often as I could and in time it was soon discovered that the three grew an almost inseparable interest in me.

Mari was the prettiest and when she started gaining more weight and the life began to return to her cheeks and skin she seemed in a way, almost dazzling to me. Clothed in one of my old dresses with a ribbon adorning her auburn hair she looked like an actual princess and at times it was hard to take my eyes off her.

Tanti was by far the sweetest little kid I had ever met, far sweeter than many of the kids around town, that was for sure. I didn't even mind her lip because once she grew on me, I didn't see it. Just as she had demonstrated back in the car, her voice was one of the sweetest I had ever heard from a living person. It had a strange ring to it that sounded in a way erutan. When she sang for the first time in the church with the echo of the rafters to resonate her voice, it brought tears to my eyes and anyone else who heard it.

Luis was the most docile of the three. Despite his missing hand, he was very eager to be picked up by anyone who would hold him. In time I found it was rather soothing to cradle him close to feel his steady breathing and fluttering heart. As curious as he was about this strange new town and residents, he remained rather reluctant to venture too far from any arms that ensured safety and protection.

He was such a timid little thing.

Despite being unable to speak English they were easy to get along with and I became a key participant in their journey through recovery and speaking. Often when there wasn't a whole lot to do around town, we would walk the length of the boundaries and I would point to random things, sounding out their English translation while they repeated it back to me.

It turned out though, that the language they were speaking was in fact Spanish and though there were several people around town that had taken classes a long, long time ago it was only Aaron and Eric, who were both fluent speakers.

During the Waifs first few days in town, the two men attempted to interpret for them while also explaining the ways of the town for the children. Having someone that could understand them made things infinitely better, especially as the adults began to discuss plans ensuring their welfare.

As much help as I offered in their journey towards recovery, it was nothing compared to what Sheriff and the other puppies did for them. All the animals served incredibly in that regards, but the dogs were the ones that helped the most.

They played with Sheriff so often, teasing and rolling around with him in the grass of our lawn. When they sat still, he sprawled next to them as they stroked back his fur. He even slept with them, curled up in a big cozy pile on the wool mattress in my room. They loved him so much that I didn't have the heart to separate them when it came time to get them settled in a permanent family.

In the end, it was Aaron and Eric that chose to take them. The two had wanted children even before the world collapsed on itself, but they had rather accepted the unlikelihood of such a thing ever happening for them now. Yet I suppose, in a way, it seemed like fate to them and when everyone started discussing the welfare for the three, they couldn't ignore the signs.

I was told the transition would be difficult. There would be large after effects of emotional trauma and scarring that would plague the children for years to come. It still wasn't entirely clear what all they had suffered and making them feel as safe as possible was very important.

There was a certain responsibility I felt for the three and I wasted no time in offering my own assistance to aid in their recovery.

"I'll be right down the street." I told Aaron and Eric as we got the children settled. "Anything you need; if they get scared in the middle of the night or one of them has a fit or a panic attack I'm right there and they'll see me every day so that should help. And Sheriff will be with them so... they'll be alright... I'm sure they will." It was hard reeling back the water but I swallowed through the lump in my throat and sniffed loudly hoping it would stop the tears before they fell.

Eric smiled, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder as he held the little boy in his arms. "Thank you, Judith."

I smiled back and turned my attention to Sheriff who pranced in place as he gazed at the circle of people surrounding him. I knelt to his level and the tone in my voice made him pause for a moment as he studied me with his wide brown eyes. Even though I was only a few doors down, I knew the relationship I had with this energetic mutt wasn't going to remain the same. They needed him more and I kept that in my heart as I took his little paw and squeezed it gently.

"I love you my brave boy."

He whined once and gave a small bark as I gave him a final pat goodbye before getting back to my feet.

I looked at them. The three children, the excited puppy, and the two new parents and for just a moment they all looked like the picture of a happy family. Something inside grew at the sight of it; something that I didn't have a name for, but it swelled in me, larger and bigger than my whole body. It wasn't heavy enough to crush me, but it was too big to really hold inside. Despite scars and strife and woe, I felt that this may work.

Oh god I prayed it would work.

* * *

**Author's Notes: In honor of Pride Month this chapter is dedicated to the LGBTQIA community. For couples struggling to start their own families I've given Aaron and Eric kids as proof that even after the end of the world life goes on and people find ways to keep living.**

**From the words of Amelia Shepherd (Grey's Anatomy), always remember: Life Will Out.**

**On a more interesting note, I have this idea that Mari is the baby from the family that Daryl and Meryl rescued in season 3. It'll probably never come up in the story but I thought it might be interesting to share.**


	18. Monsters We All Are

**Chapter 18**  
 **Monsters We All Are**  
"Judy! It's been such a long time, now hasn't it?" Negan said strolling up to where I was.

"Never seems all that long to _me_." I grumbled leaning on my crutch.

"Oh man." He announced, noticing my leg. "What happened to you?"

"A tree climbed on me."

He burst into laughter. "That so? Well why don't we walk a bit and you can tell me that story?"

I bowed my head in defeat. Of course he would want to walk. "I don't... it's hard." I settled on. Honestly it wasn't wholly because it was difficult, but mostly because I didn't want to venture too close to Mari, Tanti, and Luis and have them catch his attention. I didn't want his focus on them ever if I could help it. In a way, I guess I felt they were my responsibility. I brought them to the town, so it was my job to watch out for them, and the last thing I needed was for this monster to find any interest in my charges.

He eyed my bad leg in thought. "Oh I guess it would be wouldn't it. Alright, we can park it at your place while we chat for a bit. We can catch up since we didn't have much of an opportunity for it last time."

"Last time..." I repeated, my mind going to the incident that was "last time". In a brief moment of terror I was back in the yard, gazing at the spilled intestines, the blood, the open wound, Spencer, and Negan's smiling face. My leg and crutches stopped dead. "I... I..."

Negan looked at me like he was sincerely confused. "Something wrong, sweetheart?"

"You should know." I snapped, refusing to look him in the eye. "...You killed him."

His tone darkened, and I could tell his smile was gone. "You should be thanking me. That man was plotting to kill your own dad and take his place as leader. I did your family a favor. He wanted _me_ to kill Rick because he didn't have the stones to do it himself; instead I killed _him_. Anyone who's too weak to kill someone on their own, but needs to call in the man to do his dirty work, isn't worth shit to me. What do you say about that, Judith?"

I couldn't say anything to that, but I knew he wanted something from me, I just didn't know what that was.

He sighed as if this whole conversation wore him out. "Look, honey, you're still a kid, so I can't expect you to really get it, but I sort of hoped you would try. You surprise me like that, and that's what I like about you, plus you're already a fucking lil' kick-ass and I personally can't wait to see what you turn into. But you see the world in terms of black and white."

"Maybe that's how the world is." I shot back.

He laughed and steered me to our porch where he leaned comfortably back on one of the woven chairs.

"When you get older, you'll be eating those words. Take your father for example. You think he got where he is because he did the right thing all the time?"

I didn't sit down but faced Negan on my feet, difficult though it was. "He is where he is because he was ambushed in the forest and a monster hacked up our friends and now we have to provide for that bottomless pit because he's too _stupid_ to provide for himself and too _lazy_ to even try."

I watched his face widened in pure shock as if I had slapped him, but he was over it in an instant as he fired back darkly. "Get your fucking facts right, brat. Your people killed _my_ people first. We weren't the ones to start this."

"That's not how I heard it." I announced putting a finger to my chin in mock thought. "I believe _your_ people tried to rob _our_ people, leave them with nothing on the side of the road, and kill one of them to send a twisted sort of message." I countered knowingly. "Now I'm no ambassador and I'm sure I know about as much as the next little kid about these sorts of things, but if you want my opinion, that didn't seem like a very diplomatic move on your part. That's how I believe it went down at least. I mean I've heard different accounts but it adds up rather well when comparing your history and methods of negotiation." As limited as our library was I found that the subject of government was rather engrossing and we had a few textbooks that explained the process rather well and I'd read anything I could get my hands on. It certainly had it' perks when I was allowed to school this asshole on basic diplomacy.

"So in our defense, killing your people was _in_ self defense and it was purely your idea to take it as far as it's gotten. And if you lost more people than you had wanted you should have extended an olive branch by suggesting we could work together rather than demand we cough up half our supplies with no compensation for it."

His mouth twitched by that. "It's so impressive how you mix the truth up. I believe it was your people who attacked one of my outposts and killed every single fucking one of my people there."

"Maybe you and your wild dogs should only pick on people their own size."

"Maybe your people shouldn't pick fights they can't win."

"Well maybe..." I struggled to find an appropriate retort, but my time was stretching and I had to say _something_ , "Maybe you should... shut up for once!"

That was weak and embarrassing especially when Negan laughed.

"Ooh nice try. If you had another minute and a few more brain cells you could probably figure out a decent comeback than that."

My bravado seemed to have been used up along with my wit after those words.

"You should count yourselves lucky, brat. _Your_ people killed a whole outpost of _my_ people - in their sleep no less. I could have returned the favor, instead I only made an example of two of yours."

" _Four_." I corrected with hate. "I count Spencer as one of ours and you still have my uncle Daryl, and are doing god knows what to him right now. I haven't seen him for three years so for all I know you've probably killed him by now, and I won't forget that! And furthermore, you think you're benevolent because you only killed two of us? You're not. I think you just didn't have the stones to kill _all_ the men this time."

His eyes grew wide and a shadow of something I couldn't distinguish crossed his face with those words. I knew what he was thinking. When the Saviors first introduced themselves to us I often saw the spirits of men and young boys lingering around a few of the most ruthless of them. Weeks following their frequent visits I was often met with terrible dreams of groups of men and boys being lined up and executed in front of screaming girls and women.

I had decided to consult Vanessa about these night terrors and she had offered her wisdom, explaining that such premonitions may have been showing me what the Saviors had done to gain subjection from other groups in the past. It may have even been predicting what was to come should we cross them in ways they wouldn't forgive.

Negan's gaze pierced me while the wheels in his head turned, probably wondering if it was pure coincidence that I would say something like that.

"What makes you think I would ever stoop to killing so many?" He asked carefully.

My eyes narrowed in disgust and my tone darkened. "It doesn't seem all that out of character for you. I feel like that would be a very liberal way to gain subservience within a community. Although it would cause some... complications. The remaining community may all just decide to leave without warning or fight. I bet that would really put a damper on your _dependency_ , now wouldn't it?"

The look Negan gave me was like a ghost had slapped him in the face.

"What do you know?" He asked suspiciously.

"Know? Know about what?" I responded, shrugging my shoulders innocently. "I'm just talking hypotheticals here."

His gaze narrowed and by the look in his eye I could tell he didn't buy that for one minute. I waited for him to say something else, press for more information about how I would be privy to something like that, where I may have gotten that information and if I knew where the remaining survivors of such a group was. But he did none of those.

Instead, his eyes turned again to my injury. "How bout we change the subject? Tell me about your leg? You told me a tree climbed on you?"

"Yeah... more or less."

"Why don't you elaborate?"

"It's not that interesting." I deadpanned.

"Bullshit, I'll bet it's plenty interesting if it managed to scathe you."

"It'd bore you. No one died or was gravely mutilated so you probably wouldn't be all too fascinated." That was a lie, but I wasn't about to talk to Negan about the ambush of Wolves I narrowly escaped from.

"If you'd rather we keep talking about your friends being brained in, just say the word. We could talk about the way your father cried or the way everyone screamed. Maybe we could do a reenactment."

That fury in me was stoked by those words. I wanted him worse than dead. I wanted to curse this man with every hex and jinx I knew of. I squashed those thoughts, though. It never made a difference.

_Cast a curse and you curse two; You curse your victim and you curse you!_

I said the rhyme in my head over and over again like a mantra, cooling that burn inside me the best I could manage.

"A tree just... fell on me."

"A tree fell on you?" He sounded confused and concerned, rather than amused as I expected him to be. It almost seemed convincing but he was faking it, obviously.

"I got caught in the storm a few weeks back. It's no big deal."

"A fucking tree fell on you? How big was the thing? You're still alive so it couldn't have possibly been that big."

"No it wasn't." I said hastily.

"Bullshit it wasn't. That thing was massive then."

"How - why do you think that?" I had tried to amend the first part, but the damage was already done and confirmed with that first word.

"I can always tell when you're lying or avoiding the truth. And you didn't really help yourself by saying "how" first."

I couldn't help but glance towards Dad. _He_ didn't even know how I messed up my leg. He didn't know I spent that whole night under a tree. He still didn't even know I was ambushed. And I knew I couldn't tell him because if he found out, he'd go nuts and ground me again or renounce his decision to let me train under Aaron and I wasn't going to jeopardize that by telling the truth now.

Negan looked deeply impressed. "Holy fuck! A massive tree fell on you and you crawled away with nothing but a sprained ankle? Shit, kid, you are lucky. So fucking lucky!"

I turned on him hissing between my clenched teeth when his voice grew louder than I wanted. "I don't want it broadcasted!"

His brow lowered in confusion before a quick glance towards my dad seemed to ignite the light bulb in his brain.

"Oh... I get it, now."

His knowing, plotting tone set me off. "No you don't! You don't get it! I didn't want to talk about it because it's not important! It's not relevant. How I am injured has nothing to do with the here and now. My ankle is messed up and that's all you need to know. It doesn't matter how, it just is. I'm not letting you of all people mess up what I've worked so hard for by escalating this stupid situation with pointless details."

It wasn't all true. It just made me mad that he had gotten it out of me before I had even told my dad. I hadn't wanted to; in fact I kept putting it off for so long. Dad worried continuously about me. I was afraid of telling him because I wasn't sure how he would take it. He already had so much on his plate as it was. I didn't want him worrying over nothing. But I knew not telling him was even more dangerous.

If wolves were after me then that could have meant more was at stake than just my life. The others could have been in danger as well and precautions needed to be made. It dawned on me just then that it didn't matter if he overheard this conversation or not. I'd just have to tell him anyways.

Damn itâ€¦

"What are you working for?" Negan said bringing me out of my thoughts. "And why would this conversation mess that up? It's just small talk."

"I will not explain." I answered rebelliously.

I could feel the heat of fury that stoked inside the man with those words. He was not one to take refusal of any kind and especially not from a snotty little kid. Even with that knowledge I was testing him to the limits. I can't even really explain what was going through my head at the time I just knew I wasn't going to give him more of me.

By those words he rose to his feet and I stiffened, refusing to look up at him but bracing for his next move. I could feel he wanted to say something, probably a demand to get me to talk. Maybe he was about to hurt someone to get his way. I should have considered that before I challenged him, but it was too late to take it back so I only glared at the beam, refusing to give him the courtesy of a look in the eye and holding onto the defiance anyways.

He was furious. I knew he was, but I wouldn't back down. Sometimes it felt as though my pride was in constant battle with my commonsense and more often than not the first won out, and that could sometimes suck.

"I think I wanna see your room." Negan said from out of nowhere.

"What? Why?"

"I will not explain." He mimicked with a dark chuckle. "Lead the way, kiddo."

I gripped the armrests of my chair, glaring and uncertain what my next move should be. I had already tested him enough it just didn't feel wise to refuse him another time.

I rose from the chair and maneuvered around with my crutches ambling up the stairs with some difficulty. We reached my door and Negan leaned over to get it, stepping around me as he entered the room.

It boiled my blood worse than anything to see him inside my private space. This was not for him to observe or judge but I knew that's what he was doing as he took in the bedroom; humble and gaudy at the same time with bohemian elements. It was also slightly unkempt. I wasn't very loyal with my cleanliness and Dad had been after me for a while to tidy things up in here and clear out some things. Michonne called me a hoarder.

A pile of dirty clothes was shoved to a corner of the room nearest the wide opened closet, my green cloak left forgotten on the floor inside the door of it. With the summer months on us I wore it less often these days. Various bundles of drying plants hung upside-down from the ceiling; the ingredients for spells, blessings, teas, and remedies.

The rest of the room had been rearranged since Mari, Tanti, and Luis had arrived in Alexandria. I had given up the wool mattress that had been made for me from the sheep and gave it to them when they moved in with Aaron and Eric. Now I slept on a hammock suspended from the ceiling and reinforced with rafters to keep it from collapsing; although it was unlikely I would manage that with my tiny stature. A comforter provided extra insulation from under me when I slept while a thin sheet and quilt covered me at night. A dream catcher was suspended from the ceiling right over my pillow, an attempt to induce good dreams with very little accomplishment it seemed.

A black shelf was nailed at the head of my bed leaving a decent gap between the pole and the wall so in case it fell it wouldn't be on my head. Lining it were crystals, symbols, books and plants inducing pleasant dreams and clarity of mind as I slept. The crystals were a geode amethyst, lapis lazuli, moonstone, onyx and sodalite. The plants were potted lavender and a dried sage wand wrapped in ivy vines. The books were a dream dictionary, two poetry books, a book on teas, a dream journal I sometimes wrote in, and several picture books I had fallen in love with as a younger child.

Opposite it at the foot of my bed was another shelf, painted white. This one symbolized energy during the day. More symbols, crystals, books and plants filled the shelf. I had chosen jasper, tigers-eye, rose quartz, citrine, and a carnelian. The books on it were Healthy Habits for Tweens and Teens, Forget-Me-Not: a floral treasury, Legacy: the book of riddles, Sacred Symbols, and Charming: jewelry with a message. The plants were a potted cactus and a camellia in a vase.

The parallel shelves were meant to induce positive energy when I slept at night and when I woke again in the morning. They worked to an extent but demons had a way of slipping through even the most carefully built walls, like rats searching for gaps.

Under my "bed" was a chest of toys I never played with these days, forgotten in my pursuit for other things that I had deemed "helpful" for our people. Thinking of it as I stood with the invader in my room a pang of sadness hit me at the thought of the loss, but I brushed it aside.

I wasn't that little kid anymore. My games had changed. I no longer used toys but I still played in my own way. Maybe I'd give them to the Waifs. They'd be used again, at least.

Beside the foot of my hammock was a dresser with another shelf filled with more books and trinkets. And across it, on the opposite side by the head of my hammock was a small side table holding an unlit oil lamp with a pile of books stacked next to it on the floor. An empty teacup rested on the forgotten stack with one of Mrs. Byron's cookies half eaten beside it.

There was an old coffee table I used for a desk inches from the pile of books and a couch cushion for my chair. Various things littered the wood surface in an unorganized array of plans and projects. Over it hung another shelf filled with more books, crystals, plants, and symbols. This one also had jars of things like dried ingredients, stationary, small tools, and even animal bones.

At the top of it all were two figurines situated side by side. It was the father god (Aether) and the mother goddess (Gaia). They were both faceless and simplified. The mother was round and leaned forward to envelop an orb (Terra) which symbolized the earth. The father was tall and stood straight next to her. He was horned with antlers, just as Cernunnos was at the river Styx back at the island. These were the opposites of one another: yin and yang, love and hate, male and female, life and death.

Negan turned around, taking in the room with mixed amusement and judgment.

"What are you, kid; some kind of witch?"

"In training." I finished in answer. I stayed in the doorway leaning my back against the frame in disdain by the sight of him standing in my personal space.

"And your father supports this?" His brow lifted as if he would have never suspected we were the type of people to practice such rituals.

"He doesn't support it and he doesn't judge it. He allows me to practice my own beliefs as I wish."

His brow rose as he took the mother figurine from her place. "That so? What does your dad believe in?"

"Why don't you ask him?" I suggested through gritted teeth watching him as he fiddled with the idol.

"Being someone raised in a strict Catholic household this is a little odd for me. Is there much devil worshiping with all this?"

"No." I answered firmly. "There's no devil in the craft. At least not the stuff _I_ was taught. Sure you get your psychos every now and then; animal sacrifices, dancing naked at night, human dismemberment, but that's rare if there are others left that still worship. The craft I use dabbles in harmless spells and healing. Not devil worshiping." I went on with bitterness, recalling when I was learning about the witch hunts, the Salem Trials, and all that needless uncalled for murder. "But all forms of faith have been twisted from their original messages to suit the ones who praise them at one time or another through history. Kill for this and that god, hurt to punish this and that sinner. Countless people worshipping countless gods and everyone believes they've found the right one."

He looked amused by my choice of words. "What god do you worship?"

"I'm still deciding, but I'd like to believe in something. I know there isn't just this world. There _is_ something after death more than just wandering forever in hunger, I just don't know what it is. Those who choose to leave at last are gone for good so they don't come back to tell us what that is."

Then a pang of remorse hit me and new words I'd never thought of came pouring from my mouth. "For all the things I try to teach myself I know I know nothing. Why people in this world hate what is not them. Why they fear all they don't know. Why they hate themselves most of all for being weak, for being old or not old enough, for being everything altogether that is not godlike. Which of us can be that? Monsters all, are we not? And yet still," I cast him a furious sideways look, raw hatred boiling in the stare, " _some_ perhaps more than others. What do you say to that, Negan?"

It was the first time I had ever addressed him by name, but I felt saying it now would have held the most impact verses any other time.

For once he had no words. He stared at me with a new expression now. Perhaps he hadn't expected me to speak so eloquently. Not even I really expected to speak so eloquently. It was like the words had been spoken once before long, long ago and an old soul had chosen to speak the words again through me. I definitely could feel the presence of another faint spirit, but it was hushed and small, almost like a shadow or a draft. There, but too small to really pose any impact, and yet its impact was strong nonetheless.

* * *

Negan left same as he always did, though he cast me a look before exiting our house wearing an expression I couldn't read. Something had changed with the discussion. It felt as though he seemed skeptical of me now, a bit like tiptoeing and it was only a guess about what his impression of me was now. Whatever it was didn't matter, or that's what I tried to tell myself.

His opinion didn't matter.

I didn't care.

That was all.

I watched the trucks load up and depart for good from my window. A few minutes later I heard steps approach from behind and could tell from the gait that it was Dad to see how I was. I didn't turn to him but continued to look out the window.

"Judith?"

"Yeah."

"What did he want this time?"

"Nothing. He just wanted to see my room."

There was a worrisome pause. "Are you alright?"

"Fine."

"Do you need to talk?"

"No."

"Is there anything you need?"

"No."

Another pause and my father spoke again, uncertainly. "If there's something you need to talk about you know I'm here for you, right?"

"Yeah I know. If I need, right?"

"Yes... if you need."

I didn't say anything else and he took that as his cue to go, letting me be alone once again to sort through my thoughts. I still needed to tell dad the truth about the wolves, but right now all I wanted was to be left alone. There was always time for later.

But then again sometimes there wasn't.

"Wait." I called back to him. He appeared in the doorway a moment later. "Dad I need to tell you something."

"Is it about Negan?"

"No. It's about when I was out there. How I hurt myself."

I knew he'd been wondering about it since I got back, but had resisted asking me about it, preferring to let me talk when I was ready. Now that I was, I knew I had his full attention as I began.

"I was coming back from the island and it was beginning to rain. I wanted to get back fast but I saw a walker herd coming by and hid for a while. Then somebody grabbed me. It was the Wolves. They ambushed me and were going to drag me away. Then I yelled and it attracted the walkers. They distracted the Wolves while I got away, but it was storming really bad by then. I started running and I think I got turned around or something. Then a tree fell over and knocked me out. It hid me under the branches till morning and when I woke up I didn't know where I was. I decided to find a road. If I could find one I knew I could find home. Then I met the Waifs. They were afraid of me at first but after a while I was able to get them to trust me and we all came back together. And... that's what happened."

I glanced up at him and saw the worried frown on his face. I had been certain not to detail that it had been me specifically they had been looking for. I didn't feel it was entirely important. Making him aware of the coming threat was all that mattered.

"Look if I'm honest I wasn't going to tell you at all, but... the Wolves could still be out there. I know it's been years since we saw them but I don't want anyone going out there without knowing they're around so I'm telling you this now."

Dad looked very uneasy with the news.

"This isn't good." He said, turning to look out the window in thought.

"Does... does this mean I won't be able to apprentice with Aaron and you?"

He looked back at me and I could tell from his expression that he was considering it, but sighed. "I'm very concerned about it all, but if what you're saying is the truth then it looks like you handled yourself very well. There's always going to be people we'll need to be extra careful around and the worry of whether they're trustful or not is always going to be there. But you're not going to learn anything by staying behind these walls forever. We'll just need to be extra careful, alright?"

I breathed in relief. It was so great that he was still going to let me apprentice with him.

"I was scared of telling you." I admitted. "I wasn't sure what you would do. I thought it would jeopardize my shot. You're so overprotective!"

He crossed over and sat by me on my hammock, rubbing my back soothingly. "I'm more surprised that even after all you went through, you're still so eager to get back out there."

"It's just... it's part of me."

"I know and I'm starting to believe that keeping you cooped up would be worse than anything that could get you out there. I'm still concerned and it's still dangerous as hell, but... damn as much as I try you're just not going to stay put, are you?"

"No. Sorry."

"I'll just have to make plans about these threats. We'll have a meeting and see how we'll deal with them. I know it's hard but I'd really like you not to go out alone anymore, just till we've figured out a plan, understand?"

"Alright."

He turned me so that I was looking right up into his stern expression. "This time I mean it, Judith. You don't go out alone until this has been dealt with. No going to the island, no matter how much you want to, okay. Just... please... for me."

His face was so desperately imploring that I didn't have the heart to disobey him.

"Alright, I'll stay put. But figure something out fast, alright. It's been ages since I was at the island and I'm afraid things are starting to overgrow."

"Don't worry about that. Enid and I have been handling it."

"Really?"

"Sure. We can't let all those go to waste. That's a highly valuable asset."

I smiled up at him and felt a great weight lift off of me by that. I had been worrying about the island since the first day I received my cast. It was so nice to know I had the help of my dad and friend to keep that secret land from being overrun with weeds and pests.

* * *

**Author's Notes: It's been a while since I posted but here we are. The final words Judith gives Negan is from the Cut-Wife Joanne Clayton in Penny Dreadful. There may be a small connection between her and the witch that is revealed in later chapters but I'm not going to say what just yet. For the moment you can believe that the reason Judith can recite those words now is because she has a very strong connection with spiritual forces and because of that she can recall things that would have otherwise been left forgotten.**

**If you can, I would appreciate feedback about how you like the story so far. You've no idea how much I enjoy reading those. Thank you all for your support and keep the reviews coming.**


	19. When Mari was There

**Chapter 19**  
 **When Mari was There**  
"Holla, Judy!"

I looked over my shoulder and spotted Tanti chasing up the road to meet me, followed shortly by Mari and Sheriff. The moment we met, the tiny girl's arms encircled me tightly. The impact nearly toppled me on my crutches and bad foot but I regained my balance and straightened.

"Hi, there Tanti. How are you this morning?"

Her face turned up from where she had it pressed in my stomach and grinned through her split lip.

"I am good!" She announced using the phrase I had taught her a few days ago. Really their English was coming along fairly well these days.

I looked over at Mari and my heart thumped loudly at the sight of her. She was wearing a new dress; bright yellow, the color of butter with a flowery design embroidered around the neck and waistline. She had macramé bracelets covering her wrists and a choker around her throat, no doubt to hide the scars.

A few weeks after their arrival in town the girl had found an interest in sewing and jewelry making. I think it was meant to take her mind off of the past; it also served as a kind of therapy for her, involving creative problem solving, repetitive movements, and beauty. Mrs. Byron had been the one to suggest it, and Mari had taken to the skill very, very well. She was taken under Mrs. Byron's proverbial wing after that and the older woman had been eager to show her whatever she knew.

The girl practiced wherever she could, on her porch, by the horses, in the orchard and gardens. Every time I saw her she was bent over a needle and thread, sewing up whatever new project her teacher had assigned her. It looked as if she was the new seamstress apprentice and really it couldn't have suited her better.

It made me so happy to see her like that, especially since the first few weeks here had... not been good.

* * *

There had been several major meltdowns and panic attacks those early days. Mari had somehow gotten hold of a knife at one point and cut one of the men fairly badly. Tanti had rushed to find me the moment she could and I had hobbled into the basement of Eric and Aaron's house to find the girl sobbing loudly and muttering in her native language. The bloodied knife was still in her hands and any time someone approached to calm her down she slashed at them furiously.

Her eyes were wide and seemed to gaze in terror at some villain that hung over her, haunting her mind and poisoning from the inside out.

I didn't know what _I_ could possibly do to get the knife away from her but Tanti had been so insistent about it that I hadn't the heart to turn her away at first. When I actually saw the state Mari was in though, all I wanted was to retreat and let Dad or Michonne handle something this chaotic. They had more experience with trauma after all. But the look on Tanti's face was so desperate that I just couldn't refuse.

So carefully, I tried to coax the older girl out of her hold on the knife.

She had babbled and had even tried to stab me, but I dived for it, rolling around with her on the floor momentarily, my hands locked on her wrists as I tried to keep her from slashing at me. She was just as vicious as I was and ended up slicing a big cut on the side of my torso and even resorted to biting at one point. Finally, I managed to wrestle the weapon out of her grip and pinned her to the floor, stomach down.

She had sobbed then and screamed, repeating the same phrase over and over again.

"Â¡No otra vez! Por favor, no de nuevo!"

She cried it over and over again, sobbing and weeping like she were about to be tortured. When I looked up again I saw that Tanti was also crying. Somehow the fight and the position her sister was in now had prompted her to curl securely into a ball in the opposite corner while she rocked back and forth, whimpering in the same language as her sister.

When I realized the reason for their terror I immediately scrambled off the older girl, holding my hands up and keeping them where they could be seen at all times, despite the difficulty it was to walk or stay upright with the new inflicted wound on my torso in addition to my bad leg.

The moment she was free, Mari scrambled away, rushing to the opposite end where her sister huddled and she crouched down, holding her securely while the two of them trembled.

I stared at them, trembling myself as I gripped the knife and skittered as far from them as I could. I didn't know why but I wasn't sure I could be so near the two just now. Something told me, approaching them would do none of us any good.

Thankfully Eric and Aaron came in at that moment and settled the air when Tanti got up and immediately rush at one of them. Mari was less persuasive and wouldn't be moved until all the men had left and a woman was coaxing her up. Before getting to their feet though, she had shivered away from Tara's outstretched hand and her eyes met with me as if she were waiting for my approval. It was like our tousle had never even occurred and she was looking towards me for guidance once again, the ghost of her attacker apparently no longer on my face.

Only once I nodded that it was alright, did she move.

As soon as they were taken care of, it was fine to have a look at me. I needed stitches, though the stab wound on my side thankfully wasn't life threatening. However, it did make moving three times harder. Not only was I supported by crutches but I was barely able to move now with them. Dad suggested a wheelchair for when I went out, but I shot that down almost instantly. I wasn't going to be peddled around like I was crippled. I could still walk and I'd use my legs as much as I could. Who knew how long I would have them. In this world, any one could lose a limb or piece of themselves at a moment's notice.

I'd walk wholly for as long as I could, even if it killed me.

After that event, Mari looked at me with a pained, guilty expression. I didn't exactly make it any easier. I was... afraid of her now; afraid that she would be set off somehow and she'd attack again. When I saw Aaron and Eric again, they told me she spent most days in her room and Tara had offered to stay in the house for a while, just to put her a bit more at ease with an adult female presence.

They said it helped.

But any time I saw one of the Waifs I had to duck away. Even if only one of them had wounded me, I didn't think I was able to face any of them just yet.

It was only after Dad had given me a sound lecture for my behavior that I finally realized how cowardly and grudging I had been acting.

Mari had obviously been through something very traumatic. It wasn't her fault that her baser instincts took hold for a moment. She hadn't been of sound mind at the time, and allowing this paranoia to take charge of me and ruin the friendship we had been building was no way to behave.

He was right. He was always right. It was time to make amends.

Later, I walked over to their house and knocked on the door. Tara answered and told me Mari hadn't been feeling very well and was up in her room. There was a small chance she would have liked to see me so it was alright if I went up.

When I opened the door...

A chair was upturned on the floor and her toes dangled in midair. For one insane moment I thought she was hovering. But then I saw the rope and it looked as though the girl had been somehow fashioned into some kind of marionette. I didn't know how to speak. I couldn't breathe. I didn't even think my heart beat.

It was the scariest thing I could ever remember seeing in my life.

"MARI!"

When the strangled shriek left my mouth, it prompted movement from me at last. I righted the chair and jumped up on it, hugging around her chest and elevating her where the noose was no longer constricting her throat.

"TARA!" I screamed struggling to keep the girl from dangling. The woman rushed in and paused only a fraction of a moment before jumping in to help.

We lied her down on the floor where I pressed my ear to her chest to search for a heartbeat. I couldn't hear one. Frantically I turned to Tara. She looked at the girl with a far away expression, like she was looking at something else, the remnants of a memory so awful it froze her where she stood.

"Tara." I hissed shakily with no response. "Tara!"

Her head snapped to me but it didn't seem to really help. She looked lost.

"How do you do CPR?" I asked. The question seemed to terrify her and she hastily switched between Mari to me, uncertain about the question and completely terrified even when I repeated my words. "How do you do CPR?"

She didn't answer, only remained frozen. So tilting Mari's head and placing my hands on her chest, I fell back on all the knowledge I held from watching movies, reading books, and listening to others as they tried to explain the logistics of cardiopulmonary resuscitation.

_How did Michonne explain it?_

_Tilt the head back, close the nose, and give 2 full breaths. Check the pulse. If there is no pulse, or breathing, start CPR._

I pressed my mouth to Mari's and breathed hard twice. Next was chest compressions: _How many? Five... or was it seven?_

_Wing it!_ I settled on. It's not like I had any other options.

After a minute there was thumping behind us and I felt a new presence enter the room. I didn't let it distract me, though, even if I knew I was doing this wrong.

Someone took the reins from me just then and I was shoved promptly aside as Aaron crouched over the unresponsive girl and took over.

I had no idea how long he kept at it. It could have been minutes or mere seconds for all anyone could tell; several agonizingly long seconds.

And finally, finally just when we believed there was no more use, there was a cough.

Mari's chest heaved and she coughed right there on the floor. With her coughs came and enormous serge of relief that swept all through the room. I could feel fat drops falling from my eyes as I knelt there on the floor, cradling Mari and sobbing over her rasping breaths. Just as I held the girl against me, Aaron cried as well, folding up around us both.

I couldn't even begin to imagine what the ordeal had done to him, but in that moment it was like all of us were one person sharing in the conjoined relief and terror.

All of us except Tara, who was still struggling to escape the state of shock the experience had brought on her.

At that moment, I couldn't even touch on what was going through everyone's minds.

* * *

"We'll need to keep a close eye on her for a while." Annie explained that evening. She had been a secretary for a pediatric psychologist back when the world was turning. They'd been able to sedate Mari for the time being while Tanti, Luis and Tara were watching over her as she slept.

Eric, Arron, Michonne and I all gathered round the table as Annie explained the state of Mari's mentality. True, she was only a secretary and not a proper psychologist but she was the closest we had to anyone who might've been able to understand her. They had suggested I leave but I insisted on being present.

"Mari's my friend. I should be able help her and to do that I want to understand her."

No one could think of a reason to make me to leave after that, so I stayed put.

Annie continued. "I'd take special care to keep any and all sharp objects, chemicals, and binding materials away from her while she recovers. Don't leave her alone and it might be best if she's not unaccompanied with the little ones either."

"You think she'd hurt her siblings?" Michonne asked in shock. "I mean they're all she's really got and they're the only ones who've really given her reason to keep fighting in the first place. You can't really think..."

"There's no telling where Mari's mental state is right now. I can't say for sure what all she's endured. She's very young to have suffered so much and feel pushed enough to commit suicide. It's really a miracle she pulled through."

After about an hour of discussing and consulting she left, reminding us about keeping a close eye on her until her emotional and mental state had improved.

Before Michonne could say anything about it I tugged on Aaron's sleeve. "Aaron, Eric... I don't want to impose but would it be alright if... if I stayed here for a while. I just want to make sure that she's okay, but only if you're alright with that."

I didn't think they had the heart to tell me no.

"You can bunk on the couch if that's alright with you."

It was. I only went home for a few minutes to grab some clothes as well as a few other things. When I arrived back at their house, the couch was already set up for me.

"Thanks Eric." I said as I set my bag down in one of the chairs.

"I think I should be thanking _you_ , Judith." Eric said, folding up an extra blanket. "Aaron told me about what happened; about how you found her first and how you just... leapt into action straight away. He also told me that Tara froze up."

I looked away, finding the floorboards incredibly interesting just then. "I still didn't do CPR right."

"No one expected you to do CPR right. No one even expected you to leap in like that, but you did anyways. Mari's alive because you acted." He sunk into the cushions and looked ahead into the dead fireplace. "I think if things were to get bad out there beyond the fence... I could trust you with Aaron's life. I don't say that about a lot of people."

I knew what he was saying with those words, and the weight of them nearly took my breath away. "Are you sure...?"

Then he looked at me with a straight, no nonsense expression. "Fear doesn't shut you down, Judith Grimes; it wakes you up. You don't shrink when things get scary; you jump like there's a fire lit under you. Your dad and brother is the same way. Which is why I know you won't get Aaron killed out there."

"Well I haven't gotten myself killed out there, so..." I trailed off, my eyes glancing up at the ceiling where the Waifs were sleeping together and we could hear Tara and Aaron talking. The volume of their discussion was muffled through the boards of the house, but we could still hear the franticness in Aaron's voice as he rounded on Tara for her negligence that day. Tara didn't seem to be able to put up much of a fight, since the majority of the conversation was made in the latter's voice

"He shouldn't be so hard on her." I uttered. "No one expected Mari to try something like that. I mean... I'm partial to blame. When things got rough... I mean, I should have expected the transition to be hard on them, but she has one fit and I just..."

"She stabbed you, Judith. It's not as if you expected it. It's just... human to be wary of her after something like that."

I looked up distantly, a sort of defeated exhaustion ran through me, leaving me almost numb as I sunk into the cushions of the chair. "What _is_ human these days? I feel like it's neither a compliment nor an excuse. I should be better than human."

"We all should." His hand slapped over his eyes just then and a sob escaped him. "I'm sorry. I just... when they first got here... I just don't want them hurting anymore. I don't want to lose my little girl. I'd just like things to work out for once."

"You... you really think of them as your kids? Even though... you're not related by blood? And they've only been here a while..."

His hand pinched the bridge of his nose and he looked away, probably trying to conceal the water gathering in his eyes. "Aaron and I wanted kids a few years after we got together and we talked about it so much, but it's not like either of us can get pregnant here. We didn't think we'd ever get the chance to be real dads, but when you came back with those three it was just... they didn't have anything or anyone and we... we knew the risks and tried to be prepared for whatever came our way but we still didn't see it coming and I just... I just want these kids to be alright. I want them to be safe and happy already. I don't want them to be hurt ever again but I'm worried we won't be able to do that. Is it so much to ask for a little happiness for a couple of broken children? Is that too much to ask?"

He sniffed and wiped at his face, still trying to keep it turned so I wouldn't see what a mess he was turning into. I got up and went to sit next to him, resting my hand on his shoulder. He looked back at me and when he realized I wasn't judging him or being condescending he leaned forward to embrace me.

"Sometimes it's so weird to know how young you are, Judith Grimes." With that I felt him fall apart in my arms; relenting all self control at last. "Thank you for your help through all this. Thank you so much for everything!"

I sniffed as well, trying not to cry too much since he was struggling with that same thing. "It's okay. I just want to do my part for them."

"You do so much for us. Thank you."

We turned when we heard footsteps coming down the stairs and Tara was rushing to the door, hiding her face as she opened it silently and left. Aaron was close behind her, eyes like fire on her back as she left the house.

"It wasn't her fault," I tried to explain. "She was just... in shock."

"I don't care what she was." Aaron said in an uncharacteristically cold tone. "She shouldn't be around kids if she's not ready to handle things this big."

"She wasn't... it's not..."

"STOP TRYING TO DEFEND HER!" Aaron snapped, yelling at both of us. "These are our kids damn it! You don't get to shut down around our kids!" I watched his face transform as he said those words. He seemed to realize his tone just then and worked to reel it in. "I'm sorry I just... I'm tired okay. I'm going to bed. I'll keep an eye on Mari tonight."

"Alright." Eric said after his back before turning to me. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I'll be fine."

"Thanks again for staying over. It really helps."

I nodded and waited for him to leave before changing into my pajamas. When I heard the ceiling creak above me indicating that Eric had climbed into bed, I got out my supplies.

Vanessa's Book of Shadows had countless spells for spiritual, mental, and emotional protection and healing, not to mention ways to fixing depression, dealing with trauma and even a difficult spell to forget things a person didn't want to remember. All of these would be very useful towards the journey of recovery for everyone. Honestly why didn't I think of this before?

"And you call yourself a witch, Judith." I muttered to myself in disappointment.

I couldn't do them all tonight. That was bad form. Spells worked best if you staggered them over the course of a few days. I could start with the simpler ones tonight and move on to the more advanced ones gradually. The spells would be done in threes in a course of three days.

Three seemed to be a heavily magical number and very sacred with magic, or so Vanessa and the books I had read from had instructed me on. But it wasn't just with witches either. Countless cultures and beliefs hold the number three as a prominent role in myth, legend, and the mystery traditions. It's seen all through history and folklore. Three bears, three brothers, three curses, three tries, three, three, three.

So, like the ancients, I too would perform my magic in a sequential trilogy as well.

Tonight would be the healing from the inside out spell, the spell to end heartbreak, and a protection spell for loved ones. Tomorrow I'd work on the erasing harmful memories spell, a peace of mind spell, and a spell to relieve anxiety. And the last night would be used towards an ending depression spell, an adapting to change spell, and finally a happiness spell.

I was a bit concerned about the last one as well as the forgetting spell. Those two relied heavily on the recipient in question and they tended to only actually work if said receiver wanted them to work.

I'd have to talk to Mari and her siblings to be sure they were ready to move forward and if I could get their confirmation the spells would have a higher success chance.

Well couldn't do anything about it tonight, but I could at least get the first three squared away. I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. From my bag I pulled out a mirror and three candles carved into two girl shaped doll sort of figures and a little boy shaped figure. With a pen tip I carved in Mari, Tanti, and Luis's names on their respective candle, placing them side by side each other on the mirror. Earlier that day I'd anointed them in mint oil as the spell had instructed.

With them unlit on the mirror I clasped my hands in prayer and imagined a sacred healing energy in the form of white light, flowing from my fingers into the candle. Out loud I uttered, "In the divine name of the Universe who breathes life into us all, I consecrate and charge these candle as magical tools for healing."

With that I lit the candles and concentrated on the Waifs, willing them to be healthy as the candles burned down. The flames flickered as I chanted three more times, "Magick mend and candles burn, Sickness end and good health return."

I stayed like that, visualizing the children living and growing up healthy. It took so long for them to burn but I knew patience was necessary. Vanessa had stressed and stressed the importance of patience in the craft, but _this_ was practically killing me! Every time I thought I might get up to start the next spell I somehow managed to talk myself out of it, conscious that if I didn't give my whole heart into _this_ spell it just might not work the way I visualized simply because I was impatient.

It was agony but I remained in my place, watching the candles burn and melt in front of me. I think it might have even taken hours by the time they finally, finally burned out. At least I had the good sense to keep the candles small.

Now I could start on the heartbreak spell before I groaned. This involved more candles.

I sighed in defeat, figuratively rolling up my sleeves. "Alrighty, might as well get to it."

It was more chanting and more waiting around for the candles to burn away. This time though, I had to burn up some feathers and just to be safe I chose to perform this one in the hearth. I've had accidents with fire before and I sure as hell didn't need another lecture from anyone telling me the dangers about an open flame. Vanessa, Dad, Michonne, and my old friend John could never stress it enough.

By the end of this spell I was yawning and eager to get to bed. But I still had the protection spell to do. Well they weren't so much spells as they were cleansing rituals for a few medicine bags for the Waifs. The thing with medicine bags was that once made they couldn't be opened again, otherwise all the magic would be let loose, and if I knew little kids, they were very curious. So, I had a few things to at least conceal the bags in.

There was a little bumblebee doll for Tanti and a light-up glowbug for Luis. For Mari, I decided a stuffed animal probably wouldn't do much good since she was about grown out of those kinds of toys. Instead I got her a beaded purse I had scavenged from an old house outside of town. It was pretty with a big monarch butterfly on the front and seemed just the kind of thing that would suit her perfectly.

I was able to cut a fair-sized hole in the backs of the toys and stuff the bags in from there, sewing up the holes with a needle and strong fishing string. It was disappointing to admit that my sewing skills were not very good, but they didn't need to be pretty they just had to work. With the purse, I cut a hole in the lining and hid the bag as best it would fit without bulging too much beneath the fabric. Again, it wasn't very neat but I did the best I could and it would just have to work.

The medicine bags I had filled with a different protection stone for each of them, a dried flower, a seashell, a feather, and an individual trinket for each: a thimble for Mari, a hairclip for Tanti, and a dinosaur toy for Luis. As I filled the bags I chanted:

"Blessed be the elements of earth, air, fire, and water!  
Blessed be the fire element  
Blessed be the earth element  
Blessed be the water element  
Blessed be the air element  
And blessed be the element of life for which I recognize with this symbol  
Shower this love with protection and divine energy  
So be it! Blessed be!"

It took about another hour of filling the bags and stitching up the holes in the toys and purse before I was finally, finally finished for the evening.

With the work through, I put everything away in my knapsack and returned the living room to how it was before the work. Yawning again, I curled up on the couch and was asleep in a matter of moments.

* * *

**Author's Notes: There's another part to this chapter, but it got to be so long that I ended up having to split it. I'll probably post the rest tomorrow. In the mean time there wasn't a whole lot a of Negan and the Saviors in this chapter. Just a little down time for Judith to work some spells and help the Waifs adjust to the town and all.**

**I like to imagine that Judith is pretty hard on people, sort of like a tough loving kind of person, but there are occasions when she can be really sweet to the people she cares about. Plus, since she was the one to find the three children, there's a great deal of responsibility she feels for them. Sort of like the child who takes in a stray animal and is mindful that any mess it makes is her responsibility to handle.**

**On an additional note, I have a small confession to make; For a long time I've been neglecting to watch the rest of season 7 of the Walking Dead. I remember watching up to the mid season finale and was extremely hesitant about watching the rest because I wasn't sure how it would affect the direction I wanted to take the story in. About a week ago I finally worked up the nerve to watch the rest of it. I must admit I may change a few things in later chapters, but ultimately I don't believe the plot is going to be too deeply changed by it. I wanted to keep in mind that there was a plan I had no matter what and I intend to follow through as best I am able to.**

**I mentioned before that I wanted to write a few spin-off drabbles for this story. Maybe just some misadventures Judith has had in the forest a few times before, dangers she's encountered, and some quiet, fluffy moments with her family. If anyone has writing prompts of their own I'd love to hear them. I've also got some art I plan to post on my Deviant account in a few days. If that's something you guys think you'd like to see just let me know.**

**Alrighty, so I guess I'll go ahead and close by saying, Thank you everyone for your encouraging reviews! It really means a lot to read those comments and if you have the chance please keep them coming!**


	20. Forget My Regret

**Chapter 20  
Forget my Regret**

"Judith, it's morning." Someone (not my father, who typically woke me up in the morning), shook my shoulder. In a single moment all the events of yesterday flooded my mind and my eyes snapped opened abruptly.

"Mari?" I asked worriedly looking up to see Aaron standing over me.

"It looks like she's doing a bit better today." He explained. "She's getting dressed with Tanti and Luis. Do you want breakfast?"

I shook my head, rubbing at my eyes. "It's fine. I'll get food at my house."

"Ah come on, stay for breakfast. It's the least we can do after all."

Oh why not? It was the perfect time to give them the gifts anyways. I pulled on a shirt and a pair of shorts and helped Aaron fry up some mushrooms, eggs and toast. Even with few ingredients to work with Aaron still managed to be one good cook.

When the Waifs made it down, both Tanti and Luis ran up to me, enfolding me in hugs the moment they saw me.

Mari, however was less ready.

"How do you feel today?" I asked carefully.

"Better." She announced simply. There was nothing more we could say so we just sat at the table, eating in awkward silence.

Eric and Aaron were the only ones that attempted occasional conversation but we mostly just ate quietly. When everyone was done I helped them with the dishes.

"Don't you have school today?" Eric asked when he suddenly looked over at the clock and realized what time it was.

"I'm not going today." I said simply. "This is much more important."

"Are you sure your dad will be alright with that?"

"I think he'll understand." I said.

He went quiet after that and didn't push me for details. After a while I went upstairs and visited a bit with the others. I held Luis as he curled up beside me on the bed while also taking that time to give them their presents. All three accepted them with expressions of delight, though Mari seemed to hide a look of guilt behind her sad smile. The younger two cuddled their individual toys close to them while the girl swung the strap over her shoulder and rested the bag on her side, fidgeting every once in a while, with the beaded butterfly on the front.

As the hours ticked by Tanti distracted us while she colored on some old notebooks on the floor, babbling endlessly with mixes of her language and the new English words she had been learning. Every now and then she got up to hand us whatever pictures she had just completed.

She gave Luis one that looked like a little boy shining bright with sparkles all around him. Mari was given a set of three illustrations. The first one was of a girl who looked ugly and sad, then another drawing of something that looked like a mummy wrapped up in green bindings under a sky full of stars and the bright quarter moon, and the last one was of a girl popping out of the wrappings as something much prettier than before with bright colorful butterfly wings.

After flipping through each of them carefully, Mari smiled, looking a bit better.

The picture I was given was of a girl that looked like me, wearing a pointed witch's hat and holding a wand that sparked with magic. There were a few grey and green bodies on the page but the witch seemed to be casting a spell on them that made them all turn and leave. Before lunch she gave me two more drawings. One of the same witch kneeling in front of the body of a sleeping girl then waving the wand again to revive her on another page.

I understood what these pictures meant and I took care to tuck them away in my backpack when we had gone downstairs again.

We all held hands as we filed down the street towards the mess hall for lunch. On the way, we met Dad who was of course concerned that I had decided to play hooky without telling him. But when he caught sight of Mari and the bandage around her throat he sighed and only told me not to skip again without telling him.

It seemed the mess hall was too loud for the girl to really bear just now, so after getting our food we spread out on the hall lawn and ate together in the quiet of the summer day. Tanti carried the majority of the conversation with Eric occasionally interrupting her babbling to add something in Spanish or to remind her that she kept switching between the languages.

Meanwhile, my eyes continued to frequently glance at the girl next to me. Mari's eyes were on her soup and she continued to sip at it silently. Her throat wasn't able to handle anything thicker than liquids right now, but once she built her strength back up, the skill would come back to her. I continued to eat in silence beside her.

Eric and Tanti volunteered to take the dishes back to the hall while the rest of us walked the distance back to the house.

At their house, Aaron did his best to distract the two of us with a puzzle after he put Luis down for a nap, but sometime later he was called out because of a small emergency concerning the fence. As curious as I was about it I knew better than to leave the two other children to personally investigate.

"Can you stay here with her, Judith?" he asked before grabbing his bow and quiver.

"Yes. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks, I'll try and be back as soon as I can."

The door closed behind him and it was just the two of us.

We sat in the living room, staring down at the puzzle between us. There was a thick awkward silence that neither of us seemed to know how to break. A rush of emotion seemed to hit me just then and it took all my strength to keep from responding to it, but it soon became more and more difficult the longer the quiet stretched. After a moment Mari looked towards me, figuring she would try to break the silence first, even if her voice was weak.

"Judith... I..."

"Please." I cut her off, a lump forming in my throat and my eyes burning from out of nowhere. "Just... let me say something before you talk. I know you're going through an awful lot right now. I know you're hurt and scared and everything is so strange for you right now, but when I saw you like that... when I saw what you were ready to do to yourself I just... I can't believe..."

I turned on her, looking her square in the eye even while the tears burned down my cheeks and my voice trembled against the water. "Look! Even if you're hurting, even if you've have things weighing you down so much it feels like you'll be crushed, you have to stick around, okay! You don't get to just... come into someone's life, make them care about you and then just check out! It doesn't work like that you selfish... you stupid..."

Mari looked lost as she stared into my teary face. At last, she leaned forward and took me in a hug, resting her chin on my shoulder while I tried to compose myself.

"Is it so bad that you just have to forget about it, no matter what?" I asked. "Because I'll help you do that. Or... do you need to talk about it? Because I'm here for that, too, Mari. I'll listen to whatever you have to tell me. I'm trying so hard to understand you. I _want_ to understand you. Even if it's so awful you're worried I'll be afraid and turn away from you. Well I won't. You're not the only one who's had to do things to survive. I'm here to help you, however I can. I'll do whatever you want me to do. Just tell me."

Her whole body trembled and her arms held tighter, as if she thought I would be yanked away from her. I could feel water falling on my neck while the rest of her shook in the embrace.

"Why this happen?" She finally asked in a strangled whisper.

"I don't know." I answered, honestly.

" _Everything..._ why to Tanti and Luis? Why this happen to us?"

My heart nearly broke with those trembling words. "Oh Mari, I'm so sorry."

"It... feel so bad!"

"I know."

"Quiero olvidar... want to... forget."

"...Do you really?"

"SÃ. Duele mucho. I... want it gone!"

"Then let me help you."

* * *

I led Mari to my house and she followed me up to my room. Hesitantly, she took a seat on the cushion on the floor watching me as I dug around in my untidy closet. My room was still a mess since Negan's intrusion and it was difficult trying to organize things on my bad leg but the girl didn't seem to really mind as her gaze swept over the various things perched on the surfaces or hanging from the walls and ceiling.

At last I crawled out of the closet holding tight to one of the most valuable things I owned.

It was the ancient Book of Shadows Vanessa taught me from.

I still remembered the day she had shown it to me and how marvelous it was to see it for the first time. It was a scrapbook of old poems, little stories, remedies, recipes, legends, tips and tricks, several guides to various magic, and little homemade spells passed down through decades.

It was more than a century old and had worn and withered pages, fading pictures, smeared ink, and whole torn out areas that had been both expertly and clumsily pasted back together. But there were other things inside, too. Secret codes, puzzles, and ciphers, some were even written in invisible ink and required these customized spectacles to read them in. I didn't have those spectacles, they had been lost ages ago, or so Vanessa told me, but some of the passages could still be read when applied with heat, or the pages could be held up directly to the light and read from that way. Even still, I knew those methods were hardly scraping the surface of mysteries that were concealed inside.

There was even a darker part of the book that was separated and locked off from the rest, sealing off the cursed half with a key Vanessa wouldn't give me. I wondered how dark it all really was though, if Vanessa had introduced me to another volume supposedly far more sinister than this grimoire.

In spite of that, it was one of the best, most magical things I'd ever been given. It was _real_ magic, okay. The kind that bonafide witches learned and perfected with years and years of magical talent harnessed under their belts.

It was where some of the most successful spells I had ever tried were found.

I flipped to a page I hoped would help my friend.

There were several notes written in different hands about the spell: reviews on what it had done for those who practiced it before.

_**In my opinion, it's the single spell that works the absolute best.** _

_Success rate 100%... so far._

_**Warning: Can be incredibly intense for recipient.** _

Looking over the materials, I left briefly to gather what was needed. When I came back, Mari was still kneeling on the floor, curiously fiddling with one of the crystals from my desk. Her eyes continued to flit over to a glass case displaying butterflies on my wall.

She was so like a butterfly, I thought. And perhaps after she shed what was holding her down, she would be able to transform into something more glorious than before.

I spread the items out, arranging them just so with the book opened to the page I needed.

Mari watched me intently, eyes wide as I worked, drawing the circle and arranging the altar just the way the book instructed with a basin of water in the middle, black candles surrounding it in a half circle facing away from her, and a single white candle in the center. For the final touch, I came around Mari and tied a bandana with a mirror attached to it so that it rested against her forehead, right over her third eye chakra.

As confused as she looked about all of this, she at least had the courtesy not to question it. I turned her shoulders to face forward again and took a seat at the opposite end. Looking down at the instructions, I read the incantation in the Verbis Diablo and gestured down to the bowl. Mari's eyes turned to it, staring into the water with rapt attention. For a moment, she looked skeptical about what was happening, until she began to see things inside the water.

 _Oh come gentle night_  
Oh come stars and sun and moon  
Wrap this child in your light  
And cradle her in a silver spoon

 _Wipe the errors of the past_  
Erase the harm of another  
Heal this agony at last  
And keep her near the mother

 _Though to start anew once more_  
Find her courage once again  
Face her demons like before  
And give her strength to win

 _Naught shall she turn away_  
She'll look them in the eye  
Only will they be chased away  
So they may long last die

 _May this spell at last find peace_  
Give this girl her dues  
Let these tears and terrors cease  
And reborn her anew

Her body went rigid and I could immediately tell that what she was seeing now was not scenes she wished to revisit. Gradually tears began to spill from her eyes and she looked as though she longed to turn away, but the spell wouldn't let her. She started to tremble and rub her arms as though she were cold.

The sight of her in such a state made my heart clench, but the spell did not stop.

And then, one of the candles blew out, then another and another and another.

Marie stared into the water and continued to sob harder than ever. Each tear made little drips into the bowl, upsetting the still water more and more till I could barely see her reflection anymore.

Gradually each and every candle puffed out and when the white candle extinguished in an audible _POOF_ Mari's tears halted abruptly. Her gaze flicked up to look towards me as if everything in her life had suddenly stopped, completely. In a single moment, her body lost all feeling and she promptly spilled to the side and fainted.

With my heart in my throat, I rushed over and checked her breathing.

She was alive.

Sighing in relief, I worked her into my arms, and struggled to carry the girl over to the hammock, where she would be comfortable till she woke. Mari wasn't as heavy as I expected but it was still a bit awkward getting her up there. Once accomplished, though, I busied myself by cleaning everything up while she slept.

Hopefully when she woke again those ghosts in her past would be no more than distant forgotten shadows.

* * *

I hadn't realized at the time that in my haste to help the most damaged of the three, I had unintentionally forgotten about the youngest of the Waifs while he was quietly taking his nap.

I was promptly reminded of my negligence when Eric burst into our house sometime after Mari had fainted and called out for the two of us.

Jumping to my feet, I ran downstairs and met him in the living room where he demanded to know where Mari was while also reminding me about Luis who was in his arms with Tanti at his side.

I had never before felt dumber than that moment right there.

Eric was a little easier on me than Aaron had been on Tara, but it didn't stop me from inwardly beating myself up.

When Mari woke up, she seemed better. Out of curiosity I asked her how she felt.

She thought for a moment. "It feel... not so bad."

"What do you remember?"

Her brow lowered as she tried to search for an answer. "Not much."

"Do you feel better?"

She took her time to respond, but when she did, she turned to me and smiled fully.

"Yes. Did... spell work?"

My first reaction was to immediately nod, but I had to consider this thoroughly for a moment. "I'm still trying to figure that out. Is there much you remember from before?"

"...No."

So then maybe it did work. Even so, with her history, I thought it may have been best if I kept a close eye on her until I was sure about it.

* * *

For the next two evenings, I performed the other spells for the Waifs, divvying them up as necessary between days. In addition, I kept a small notebook of their progress and anything that seemed out of the ordinary, examining and logging anything I found about them. In some ways, it seemed like I was a scientist jotting down the behaviors of various animals in a field journal.

About two and a half weeks later, the three of them seemed to function like perfectly normal people and began to even play with the children around town. Tanti and Luis especially found the company with others much more bearable. Mari, though, seemed to prefer my friendship over others and, in time, it seemed as though the two of us grew a special sort of bond.

For all the trials, we had been through and all the baggage we carried, I was happy we were friends. It was actually the first time I had friends near my own age.

It was common knowledge that I didn't really get along with the other kids in town. They all thought I was weird and most were afraid of me, and maybe they were right.

I was the only one who practiced spells, went outside the wall all alone, was the first to leap into fights, and was stupid enough to stand up to the Saviors and Negan. I think they thought I was a little crazy, and maybe they had a good reason to think that. Sometimes I _was_ a little crazy.

One girl in particular was the bane of my existence around town. Her name was Lizzie Pelzer. If you recall the school play fiasco, it's apparent that I've mentioned her before.

She was three years my senior and we'd been on rocky relations for a very long time. She had strawberry blond hair that curled at the ends, green eyes, rosy skin, and full lips. She cooked with her parents in the mess hall and tended the orchard and the goats. She also worked with our , intending to apprentice under him once she graduated school. If Alexandria had royalty she'd probably be the princess.

It was insufferable being anywhere around as her admirers flocked her wherever she went. The boys drooled after her and all the girls wanted to be her; except for me. I had other things going on. And ever since the uh... Christmas play fiasco I was a bit excommunicated from the other children. Plus, they all believed I was a witch so they were a bit afraid of me.

I hated sitting in class while she carried on about whatever. It was worse that she was one of the older students, which put her in a position to boss the others around if the teacher stepped out for a minute.

One time I begged my dad to let me out of school, explaining to him that I could learn much better on my own, but he wouldn't let me.

I was really happy when the Waifs finally started school with me. Granted there was only about two weeks left for us till summer months, but Arron and Eric thought they might at least become acquainted with everyone.

Lizzie was no longer the prettiest girl anymore since Mari was by far much more attractive than her once she'd regained her health. She carried an exotic sort of mysticism with her and for all the pain she endured I felt those aspects made her twice more attractive, because it meant Mari was a survivor. She would endure whatever came her way and she would take care of the people who mattered most to her, no matter what.

Of course, Lizzie tried to get her to join her posse. When Mari first started the class, Lizzie offered her a seat at her table, making Dora move so there was room. I felt a tremendous surge of smugness when Mari sidestepped her and sat close to me instead with Tanti choosing to sit on my other side. Normally, she would sit with the two other first years, but Mrs. Lakely decided not to press the issue, considering everything the sisters had been through.

According to Annie, apparently what the children had done when we first encountered one another, and why they were so close to me now, was something called imprinting. When things got bad, I was going to be the one they called out for. If a decision was too big for them to make on their own, I was the one they turned to for guidance. If they needed to talk about anything I was the one they would vent to.

In other words, I was just their equivalent to a mama bear.

We did everything together. We ate together, sat together, played together during our free time, handled our chores together, worked together and so on. For people who didn't speak the same language all that well, we were as close as you could be.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Good news! A few more chapters and then we start getting into the good stuff. The thing a few of you have been anticipating is coming up very soon! So hang tight and thank you for all your wonderful support and comments. I know these little side stories seem pointless but I promise they wouldn't be here if they didn't have any importance to them. If you've stuck around for this long I guarantee you are not going to regret it.**

**A lot of spell work in this chapter. I based Judith's Book of Shadows off of the one from Practical Magic. If you look it up on Google it's a very intricate and beautiful book. Mari and the other Waifs have suffered pretty heavily at the hands of others so a lot of psychological damage has occurred for them which can make their behavior extremely unpredictable at times, thankfully a bit of love and white magic can go a long way with recovery. I'm sure some people probably say, you can't just light some candles and say some words and hope for the best, and maybe you can't, but you never know until you try and there aren't a whole lot of people who rely on magic, so why shouldn't stuff like that work.**


	21. Things You Don't Understand

**Chapter 21  
Things You Don't Understand**

The day I finally lost my splint and crutches was the day school got out for the summer and the next day I would begin my apprenticeship.

I all but skipped the entire way back home, humming and bouncing off of my feet with utter delight.

I was so excited to start working again. Being stuck within the boundaries of the wall was torture and by now I had suffered a great deal of cabin fever. It would be nice to be back with the trees and my game trails, plus I was eager to get back to the island again and see Vanessa. I wondered how it was doing after so much time away.

The moment the splint was off and I was free of the crutches I ventured over the wall to investigate, accompanied by Enid who was just as eager to see the island as I was.

She and Dad had kept their promise to maintain it while I was away. The house though, seemed to be a bit disorganized since the last time I was there. Enid, like me, was not one for housekeeping but I liked to believe my chaos was manageable.

"Sorry about the mess." She tried to explain, reaching for some papers scattered on the floor and moving them to a table. Clothes and unwashed dishes scattered over this surface and that. It looked like Enid was somehowâ€¦ living here, and true there were whole stretches of days when I didn't see her, but I assumed that was just because we were both busy with our own things. I hadn't known she was voluntarily spending nights in this place.

Her face lit up a bit as I glanced around the messy living room. "I umâ€¦ come here when I want to be alone. It's a really nice place."

That took me a bit off guard. The island was supposed to be my place of refuge. It was where I learned with Vanessa. I assumed she wouldn't have taken to staying in a real witch's cottage, believing it would be cursed or hold ghosts, but apparently that didn't seem to discourage Enid all too much.

Well I was here now, so order would be restored in time once more. Where her housekeeping skills left much to be desired, at least she had done well to take care of the landscape and greenhouse. I ventured into the glass building just to find the distiller scattered with several different plant specimens.

"Have you been making oils?" I asked, picking up a bottle of something fragrant.

Without expecting it, Enid took it from my hands. "Iâ€¦ wellâ€¦ it's just something to pass the time. I've gotten a bit of a knack for it."

Turning to the work table I spotted other things scattered over it. Salves and soaps and pastes in jars and bottles of every shape and size. There were notebooks as well, some that looked to be written in Enid's handwriting as well as a few I recognized as Vanessa's.

"Are youâ€¦ studying her books?"

"I just wanted to know more about essential oils and soaps and maybe some remedies." Enid explained hastily. "I thought it would be nice to learn a bit about all this stuff. And if I'm going to watch this place for you I figured it was the least you owed me."

The words caught me completely off-guard.

I hadn't said a single thing about it, but she was treating me like I had just rounded on her. With those words, I instinctively wanted to snap and shout about _her_ not belonging there in the first place. She wasn't a witch and this wasn't her island to just crash in whenever she felt like it. This was a sacred place where a powerful witch once lived, and she was treating it like some kind of Motel 6.

Yet even with that thought, I knew she had still risked her life to come here every day and take care of the land. So, as much as it galled me, I didn't have the heart to tell her just how much I disapproved of it all.

Instead, I just turned around and left to tend the garden, fuming in silent resentment.

I just hoped she would at least have the decency to tidy her crap up before we left today. I didn't have the time or the patience to pick up after another person.

The overall state of the island looked fairly decent, though I still managed to find one or two weeds growing where they shouldn't have been. They could have popped up overnight but it still annoyed me. Enid obviously seemed to have been far too busy with other things to bother keeping the place in decent order.

I tried to put it out of my mind while I fished a bit through the cellar for some bath goods to take to Holly and Cory, the couple that looked after the pigs. I knew they were also running low on things like candles, so it seemed a good idea to take them some of those as well.

My body leapt nearly off my feet when a voice cried out from behind me. "Beetle!"

Whipping around I turned to see Vanessa standing a few feet away, wearing a look of worry.

I held my frantic heart, having been scared almost to death. "Oh, Vanessa, it's just you."

She didn't share in my relief, her face still twisted in concern for some reason. "Beetle. There's been great wrong done here."

"Huh?"

"Your friend is dabbling in things she does **not** understand."

"Wâ€“what do you mean?"

She didn't answer, only turned to lead me to a deeper part of the cellar into a far dark corner where an altar had been set up. With horror, I glanced around to gage the kind of ritual that had been in the makings here.

A pentagram was traced around a stone block where the head of a walker lay atop it, gnashing its teeth away without any body to assist its unquenchable quest for flesh. Accompanying it, was the severed leg of a lamb and the beak of a raven on either side it. Written in blood were ancient runes all along the edges of the circle and laying open in the very center of it all was the Poetry of Death.

There was a terrifying chill that permeated the air the moment I spotted this blasphemy.

"Whatâ€¦ theâ€¦ hell!" I hissed at the sight of it all.

My first instinct was to flee from all of it, but for some reason, me feet wouldn't carry me away. My next thought, drove me forward. My foot struck out and kicked the book closed with an impossibly loud BANG, the sound of which echoed through the entire cellar! Next, my feet skidded through the circle, severing the lines and the incantation with it. After that, I took up the knife in my pocket and stabbed the gnashing head in its brains, silencing it forever.

In five seconds flat, I had reduced this evil altar to pieces. I wasn't sure who it was initially intended for but I had a bit of an idea. Even so, I didn't care. After breaking this spell to shambles I took up the evil book and turned on my heal, running up the stairs two at a time.

"ENID!" I screamed. The young adult appeared to me in seconds.

"What? What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Yes." I all but shouted at her, waving the Poetry of Death in my hand at her. "What the hell is this?"

Her face transformed in terror at the sight of it.

"Where did you find that?"

"Where do you think?" I hissed resisting the enormous desire to throw it in her face. "What the fuck do you think you were doing?"

"I was doing something!" She fired back. "Everybody seems to have forgotten what those monsters did to us and none of them want to fight for what's ours. But I am! I'm fighting back!"

" _This_ is no way to do it!"

"Why not? Are you a witch or not, Judith Grimes? You strut around town playing the part but you haven't done shit to right the wrongs those monsters have done to us. Even when it's at your fingertips, you completely refuse to do what's necessary. Well I say if you won't, _I_ will!"

"This is not the way!" I yelled back at her.

"What is the way, then? Kill or curse, what's the difference? The way I see it, harm is harmâ€”what does it matter about the manner in which it is dealt?"

"It's not worth the cost of your soul!"

" _Soul_? Are you going to try and tell me you believe in that garbage Father Gabriel spews? You know better than anyone that's all a load of crap!"

"Maybe I don't necessarily believe in those teachings, but I know there are spirits out there who were kind and decent in life but are wandering around with darkness and wrath in them with no way out because they're holding on to the terrible crimes done to them. And this stuff," I shook the book at the older girl, demonstrating how seriously messed up this was, "is a good way to make sure you become just like them when you pass on! So you better ask yourself now; is a moment of revenge worth eternity for my soul? Is playing with the devil really worth my damnation forever? Because if so, you can take this book right now and go finish what you started, but if you do, you get off this island right now and don't you ever come back! I'm not carrying that weight for you and I won't let you drag down the people we love because you wanted to play with crap you don't know crap about!"

The air grew eerily silent after those final words and neither of us moved for a long time.

Finally, Enid turned on the spot and left through the door of the cottage, leaving me alone with the Poetry of Death still in my hand.

Later that day I locked the book in an old trunk, filled it with sand and purified crystals and buried it under the same broken altar. As a further precaution, I performed a cleansing ritual, bidding the forces in the book to rest where they were and not stir so long as it was in the chest.

I thought about burning it, or sinking it to the bottom of the river but there were several terrible fables that rang in my head about people who'd tried to rid themselves of a cursed object in similar fashions only to meet with horrible misfortune later on.

The following days after that, Enid and I barely spoke to one another and I did not find her at the island again.


	22. The Hunter's Apprentice

**Chapter 22**  
 **The Hunter's Apprentice**  
The next day I began apprenticing with Aaron. There were some days when Dad would take me out himself but in retrospect, I think I preferred Aaron's company over his.

Dad, for all his good qualities, wasn't a very accomplished hunter. He kept getting side-tracked with walkers and all that. It was like some kind of OCD for him but any time he saw one, he immediately had to kill it. I mean, I knew they were dangerous and all for other people, but if it was unnecessary and if it hadn't seen either of us, then I say, just let it go about its merry way. When he was constantly getting up like this to go _off_ those wandering bodies it tended to scare away edible game more than it would have otherwise.

And then there were his jokes--Oh my god, his jokes!

Every time it got to be too quiet for my dad, he figured it was the perfect opportunity to bust out with some twisted gag from out of nowhere.

"Hey Judy, how many tickles does it take to tickle an octopus?"

"Dad, please." I muttered rolling my eyes for the thousandth time.

"Ten tickles." Then he would pull this weird face I couldn't describe and lean towards me like it was the smartest moment of his life. "Ten tickles, Judy."

Even if they were corny, even if they were the worst puns I'd ever heard in my life, he always managed to make me snort with laughter, and it was that much more galling because it meant he won and despite my best efforts I still lost!

I think he kept some kind of secret book of over a thousand Dad Jokes stashed away somewhere so he'd have new ones every day we were out there. Even if it was a little ridiculous I endured his quips because they were rare moments when I could just bond with my parent.

Even so, for anyone who knows how to hunt, they know that it is a skill that requires patience, stealth, and silence. It's all for nothing if you are constantly rampaging around to kill other things. And with a dad who's eager to bust out with a corny gag every chance he's given it's a little difficult to keep a low profile for animals.

At least Dad was good with snares. Those were things he excelled enormously at and if it weren't for those, we'd probably be returning home empty-handed quite often.

Thankfully, there was a lot of work around town that required his attention most of the time, leaving me with Aaron.

With both our help we began hunting much larger game than I was used to and it was nice being able to haul more than I could typically carry back.

This was what I had missed when I used to go gathering with John. On my own, it just didn't feel like I could get very much done. I still missed my mentor and friend but Aaron was good company and still offered to teach plenty to me.

I showed him my favorite fishing spots and, with his help, I was able to haul back three times as much as I could carry on my own. In fact, we were even allowed a wagon and a horse. The amount of food we brought back was a smorgasbord I could only have daydreamt of and by the end of the first day with him I had to admit that having a capable partner really did make a difference, not to mention the perks of working with one of the town leaders.

It was so nice not having to keep my activities in the forest a secret anymore. While the discovery of my strange divertive power remained confidential between Enid and myself, there was a terrible feeling that the more freedom given to me, the more likely that secret would be discovered. So as time wore on I wondered more and more if I should just come out and tell Aaron.

There had already been quite a few close calls, and I had saved Aaron on a number of occasions with my knives and slingshot, but it seemed as though nothing immensely dangerous had happened to really warrant suspicion from him about me.

He was my hunting partner so perhaps it was time to extend some trust to him. He already trusted me with his life if he was willing to drag a kid along each and every time he left the walls for walker roaming grounds; wasn't it only fair? My luck was running low and I knew it. Eventually I would have to tell him or he would figure things out on his own. It was just trying to find a way to do it that was hard.

I considered this choice as the two of us gathered mushrooms and black berries. We filled seven whole gallon sized baskets of the sweet fruit, enough to give each family one quart of it. We even found more truffles but only enough to divide it up between the two of us and our families--oh and Negan, of course.

"The berries should make the rest of them happy. I think we deserve a bit of a bonus for all our hard work so we'll hang on to the truffles." Aaron announced, popping one of the purple fruit in his mouth. We lounged on the cart, taking a well-earned break to enjoy the day and eat some sandwiches. It _was_ much nicer having a partner and I swung my legs back and forth in satisfaction.

"You know we could dig up some of those bushes and grow them in town." He suggested. "That'd make things a little safer, and we wouldn't have to come so far out to find them."

I pondered this. "Yeah... I guess that makes sense."

"You don't want to?" He asked, noting my tone.

"No. Of course I do." I said hastily, but he seemed to see through me and I had to amend my words. "Well... I guess I just like coming out here."

He chuckled as he looked at the bushes in thought. "You're made for this."

I glanced sideways towards him and thought this may have been as good a time as any to tell him the truth.

"Aaron?"

"Yeah?"

"I... want to tell you something."

"What is it?" He asked curiously.

"Well... I-I just wanted to tell you..." I studied him, considering how I was going to word this enormous secret when my heart suddenly lost its nerve. "I just wanted to say... I'm really happy I've got help now."

He snorted in agreement. "Yeah you can say that again. Help with this is always welcomed."

"Yeah... it sure is."

Inside I scorned myself endlessly.

_Coward!_ I yelled. _Spineless coward!_

* * *

"Mrs. Byron? It's Judith. I've got your delivery today."

Mrs. Byron was one of our oldest citizens and one of the nicest, too. In a way, I viewed her a bit as a sort of grandmotherly figure and sometimes took care to reserve special goods for her that would help her with her aging body. I heard her coming to the door and stepped back as she swung the screen open.

"Well hello there, honey." She stepped aside and I walked in, setting the supplies down on the dining room table.

"Hello. I've got some things for you." I gestured to the crate. "A plucked pheasant, lemons, mushrooms, a full jar of honey, and some white willow tea to help with your joints." I paused as I picked up a concealed container, wrapped carefully in brown paper and tied off with a string. I'd been extremely cautious while preparing this one. I'd heard about the rising challenges her pain brought on and had consulted Vanessa about it. I didn't know a whole lot about glaucoma but she had instructed me on how to grow and prepare a treatment that might've helped.

"I also found this to help with the pain in your eyes."

When she glanced in the bag she squeaked in surprise at the sight of it. "Is this... don't tell me this is..." She couldn't seem to finish the idea, but I nodded in confirmation.

"I found a glade where they were growing wildly. I found some instructions on how to dry and prepare it."

"Judith, you haven't been--"

"No." I said, quickly waving the idea out of her mind before she could say what we were both thinking of. "No, I just heard it would help with what you're going through right now. If you don't want it I'll throw it out right now, but I just thought..."

She rested a hand on my cheek appreciatively, another sentence cut off before it was finished. "You went through all this trouble just for me?"

"Of course. It's what I'd want someone to do for me if I was under all that pain."

There were tears sparkling in her eyes just then and she turned towards her kitchen. "Oh, you're such a good girl, Judith. Let me give you something for all your hard work."

"That's alright, Mrs. Byron. You don't have to give me any--"

"Oh, pish tosh!" She declared, coming around the corner with something in her hands. "I was planning to give it to you anyways, but now I want to give it to you even more. Besides which, I can never freely give anything to whomever I want to these days. You already do so much to help everyone--and at your age, too. You should be playing rather than worrying about all of us."

I smiled, shaking my head at the thought. "Honestly, I like doing it. It's fun."

"Well you've definitely earned something sweet for yourself."

She put a tin container in my hands and I opened it to find creamy white cookies that looked like dollops of hardened frosting topped with purple syrup.

"I used those black berries you gave me." She said proudly.

"Oh, those were for _you_ to enjoy." I responded with slight disappointment.

"I did enjoy them and this is the least I can do for all the help you've given me and everyone during these hard years."

"Really, I'm happy if everyone else is happy. Whatever I can do to contribute is all I want."

She held one of my hands, patting it affectionately. "You're so smart and brave. Everything you do is so brave, sweetheart."

I shook my head, feeling guilty for her kind words because there were so many things I was hiding from these people. If they knew the truth, would any of them ever trust me again?

I looked sadly at the gift in my hands. "I'm not. Really I'm not."

She only kept smiling warmly, before leaning forward and enveloping me in a hug. It was so warm and so sincere that it only made me feel worse. She shouldn't have been so kind to me. If she knew the truth she would never want to be kind to me again. No one would.

Just then Mari walked in.

I swallowed at the sight of her, my heart rushing in my chest. Today she wore a green top with yellow embroidered bees and yellow pants to match. Her hair was its natural curly brunette lochs and bounced whenever she moved.

Sometimes, I really couldn't believe how pretty she looked.

She smiled when she saw me and came forward, offering her most recently finished project up. It was a plaid long sleeved button up shirt for one of the men, maybe Aaron or Eric. It was well sewn and I knew it would look good on either of them.

I nodded my approval and she turned it to bring my attention to the back of the collar where a tag would have gone had it been made eleven years before now. It was sewn in the shape of a simplified butterfly--or a sort of personal logo embroidered in green thread. She had drawn the logo carefully with her initials to look like a butterfly.

"M.Y.R.?" I asked curiously.

"Mari Yolanda Reese."

Mrs. Byron smiled proudly to her apprentice and chanced a careful hand on the girl's shoulder. "I showed her the little embellishment I always put on my creations and had her make one for herself. She's very proud of it."

"I like it." I told her directly. "I think you're a lot like a butterfly, Mari. You're always so colorful and you had to accept a lot of change lately. I think it might be your spirit animal."

She smiled warmly and struggled with the thanks she had been learning from Eric. "Thank you... for your kind words." She still struggled with her accent, but it was coming along nicely.

"You're welcome."

Just then she pulled something else out and handed it to me. It was a macramé friendship bracelet with a green triangle pattern and wooden red beads. It was like the kind I'd seen in pictures from old preteen girl novels.

"A friendship bracelet." Mari explained.

"Oh, this is so nice. Did you make it as well?"

"She did." Mrs. Byron announced. "I watched her place every knot. She's very proud of that one."

"I'll wear it always." And I promptly tied it over my left wrist, holding it up where I could admire it. "I love it! It makes me want to give you something now."

She looked so happy when I accepted it and she demonstrated by tangled her fingers through mine so she could hold my hand. "Friends." She announced with my hand in hers.

I nodded, blushing from the contact. "Okay, yeah. Friends."

Yes. We were already good friends.

* * *

**Author's notes: Two chapters today since the first one wasn't that long. We're one chapter away from the real good stuff you guys, from here on out it's going to start getting really interesting.**

**I love the Rick jokes you can find on pinterest and decided to work a few of those in here. If you guys haven't seen those yet, you should check them out, they're hilarious.**

**And for those of you wondering, even though she didn't exclusively say what it was I think most of you can work out what it was that Judith gave Mrs. Byron. I read that it can grow wildly but it's very rare. And then there's the whole Zombie Apocalypse so who can exactly predict what that might do to the ecosystem and what not? For all anyone knows it dropped from someone's pocket as they were running away or were zombified and it was on them while they were wandering around and conditions were well enough for a bush just sprouted right from the spot.** **Being a witch and herbalist I'm sure Vanessa knew a thing or two about how to prepare it medicinally and taught Judith a thing or two about it.**

**Thank you everyone for your amazing reviews. Keep them coming! :D**


	23. Bearskin

**Chapter 23**  
 **Bearskin**  
It was warm in the forest. The air was rich and thick with the scent of trees and earth and animals. Everything was still. We crouched in a ditch, watching small birds flit by in flocks and on their own. At last we perked when something large caught our attentions; a buck, with branching antlers, appearing from the shrubbery as something almost regal.

It was almost saddening to shoot something so beautiful, but Aaron took aim with his bow and brought it down in two shots. It ran for a few feet before the wounds in its neck and shoulder brought it down for good. For added measure I tossed a knife at its skull, to give it a quicker death.

It was huge and even more beautiful up close, though the blood did mar the beauty slightly. I shared a look with Aaron and grinned.

"Wow! I've never seen a deer this big before."

"Me neither." Aaron stated, amazed by his own luck and skill.

"Nice job." I applauded. "This is gunna be great."

"Yeah... beautiful hide isn't it. Look at these antlers."

My smile was enormous as I jumped to my feet and turned. This would feed the town for weeks. "I'll go get the cart."

I was only gone for about ten seconds when I suddenly heard a roar and Aaron shouting. "Oh shit!"

Instinctively, I sprinted back as fast as I could, my mind leaping to walkers.

It wasn't the undead, but a bear; huge and towering, roaring right in Aaron's face. It struck me dumb by how enormous it was and for a moment I forgot how to speak. But then my eyes caught on my companion and I found my voice.

"Aaron!"

Despite my shout I saw the man freeze up worse than a deer in headlights. He should have drawn his weapon, but he didn't. He didn't even turn to run!

Why didn't he move? What was wrong with him?

Another roar shook the trees and a massive paw rose just then, claws the size of butter knives catching the sun. Instinct took over for me as I sprinted forwards and slammed into the man hard enough to knock him down. My interference probably saved his neck from a gash that would have killed him, but it did put my back in line to take that mauling. I heard the fabric of my shirt rip and searing claws scrape down the skin of my back.

The pain didn't register fully as all my senses clogged with adrenaline. It's amazing what someone can do when all fear flies out the window and whatever's left is merely the pure instinct to save what's important to you.

I jumped to my feet with a knife in my hand. I took aim and threw it directly into the beast's eye. There was a guttural wale of fury and pain from the beast and its balance was lost. It was too late for me to scramble backwards though, as I watched it toppling forward.

It was like a ton of bricks fell on me; hairy, cushiony, fat bricks.

I lied there with the weight of the bear pressing down on me, constricting and suffocating. Only my arm was free as I swatted the ground around me for a branch, a root, a hand to pull me out from under that crushing hairy monster. Finally, someone caught me and pulled me free enough to get my head out. I sucked in air, immediately grateful for the breeze that cooled my face.

Aaron gripped my hand tightly and pulled, tugging so hard I was afraid he'd pull my arm straight from the socket.

"Judith! Judith, are you alive? Say something!"

"Pull me out!"

I worked my other arm free to let him grab it and once he had both hands he tugged hard. With countless grunts and words of profanity he pulled me free from the animal and I scooted out, sucking in gasps of air and swallowing back spit to water my mouth.

A few seconds went by before Aaron sucked in sharply. He turned my back to face him and muttered low at the sight of it. "Oh god! Your back is a mess!"

With my mind fully focused on it now, I could feel the actual "mess" of it perfectly well. He led me to the wagon where the med kit was and fixed me up the best he was able. It was agony to move, but I stopped the cries and complaints I would have made otherwise as I sat on the wagon with my shirt off to let him view the damage easier.

"My god, look at you." He muttered, taking in the shape of me as he dressed the wound over my back. It probably wasn't as pretty as an actual doctor's work, but it would have to do for the moment. "Your father will kill me when he sees this."

"I doubt that." I announced holding still as the gauze wrapped around my middle. My eyes watered with pain and it was almost torture to hold back the whimpers. It would need stitches the moment we got back, but for the moment I'd walk it off. "W-we can't replace you. I'll be out of the game for a while but there's plenty of adults to take my place to help you."

"Don't talk like that, Judith." He insisted. "There is no one that can take your place. _Seriously_ , there really isn't."

I said nothing to that till he was finally finished, wincing while I pulled my tattered shirt over my head and tried not to move in a way that the wounds didn't agree with. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Aaron gape when I jumped off the cart. "We can't stay out here. We've got to get you back, right now."

I shook my head, moving towards the game. "No, we need to get these into the cart."

He looked at me like I was out of my mind. "We can't worry about them right now. We have to get you to the infirmary."

"We can do that later." I insisted, ignoring the sting on my back as much as I possibly could. "I'll be fine. _Really_. But these we've got to get on there right now. I'm not letting a bear _and_ a buck go to waste because I got scratched."

"It's much more than just a scratch, Judith."

"It doesn't matter!" I snapped, brushing the pain aside while I stepped up to them and considered what the best course of action would be for hauling the large carcasses in the cart. "You can help me or not, but I'm not letting these go to waste out here. I won't."

"Jesus, Judith, you've just been mauled!"

"I don't care about me!" I yelled without thinking.

He stared at my back and I could only imagine the look of total shock while I myself looked down at our two kills, stunned myself. I hadn't even realized that was what I thought of myself. Did I really not care about my own wellbeing?

Aaron sounded appalled when he finally spoke. "Well you might not care a whole lot, but there are still other people that give a damn about you, Judith, and the last thing they would want you to do is kill yourself over some deer steaks and a bear rug."

"It's not just that..." I explained. I couldn't really understand it myself. What was this obsession I had with providing for our family? And yes, now that I really thought of it, I considered it an obsession. But why did I drive myself? Why did I push myself so unnaturally, when others would take things slow? Why was I like this?

"I... don't know why, but this is important. Not just to the town, but to me, too, okay. It's life and death. If I'm killing something, there's a purpose for it. It's not meaningless, alright! I'm not going to waste lives!"

"No one ever said you did."

"Well I don't want to start then. So, help me with these. They're going to feed the living, not the dead, alright!"

I lowered the ramp we had as close to the animals as we could, then I grabbed the old tow ropes. Unable to stop me, Aaron did his work to help. Through some clever ingenuity on Aaron's part, we were able to create a sort of pulley using the ramp, ropes and horse's strength in order to load the animals on the cart. It was hard and took longer than an hour to really figure out and set it up. Plus, I had to work through the gouges on my back; a feat that proved painful and unbearably difficult. But I knew that if I looked like I was in pain, Aaron was going to insist on going back before we were done, so I swallowed back the tears and tried to think of other things.

Only when we at last got them loaded up, were we allowed to be on our way. The exertion just about made me pass out and I could tell from the wetness on my back that the claw marks were bleeding again and making the wrappings sticky and crusty when they started to dry.

My head bowed where I sat in the cart and a cold sweat doused my forehead while my head spun like a top, making the world blurry and offset.

Just then, we rounded a corner of a high building and Aaron hissed sharply.

"Oh shit!"

Alerted by his tone I looked up and saw the culprits to his terror. An enormous herd of the dead bard our way and rambled straight for us. From the size of it, I was lucid enough to estimate there had to be at least a hundred in that one herd alone. The horse bucked and neighed, kicking on his front hooves upon the herd's resounding moan of greeting. Aaron began to back the cart up, but I stopped him. I was too drained and in too much pain to let him find an alternate road back home or to let him disastrously fight our way through. And even if we did turn, the herd would be on us in no time. There was only one way out of here.

I put a hand on his arm. "Don't! There's no time."

"We've got to get out of here!" He shouted reaching for his bow and quiver, ready to abandon our kills and livestock for a distraction as we ourselves got away.

But I only slipped from the cart and limped towards the horse's reigns, attempting to calm the animal.

"Judith! JUDITH WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

I ignored him and turned to the herd. At the sight of me, the nearest walker stopped dead in its tracks. Its reaction was like a strange ripple through the herd. It stopped advancing and swayed in its spot. In seconds, all the ones that had me in sight did the same while the ones behind them followed the reaction of the others like sheep.

I could feel Aaron's reaction behind me, and knew without looking that he was speechless and still. He couldn't move a muscle.

But just when he froze, the walkers began to move, ambling away from me and suddenly disinterested in our cart, our animals, or us.

I walked forwards and the horse followed uncertainly, but only when it saw the dead bodies dispatch almost like a crowd of regular people. Aaron stayed in his seat on the cart, unable to move or speak. Maybe he was afraid of breaking whatever spell I had over them with any noise.

It was like the red sea's parting or a boat cutting through a very still lake. The walkers just turned and chose a new direction where they would be as far from me as possible.

Finally, Aaron just couldn't hold back and tested the waters carefully, "H-how are you doing that?"

I didn't answer him. We broke through the herd eventually and our way home once more stood before us unobstructed. I led him all the way back and any walkers in our path turned tail at the sight of me. At last, the walls were in range and when my eyes fell on them, the strength left in me snapped away and I fell to the ground, exhausted and spent.

"Judith!" Aaron cried, jumping from his position and rushing towards me. Even close to the edges of unconsciousness I still felt his arms lift me up and put me on the seat of the cart before climbing up himself and whipping the reigns.

"Giddiup!"

The horse began to run after that and didn't stop till we had reached the gate and Aaron was yelling for them to open it quickly.

I've never been on a rollercoaster, but the way my head was spinning gave me the sensation that I was rushing up in a winding loop. My back was enflamed, but I felt no energy to move or respond to it. I just tried to hold still. Shouts were being tossed around when we got through, though nothing coherent. I could recognize some town's folk and a few Saviors among the voices and in a matter of moments I heard my own father's voice breaking through all the others.

I could also hear the Waifs' trembling voices as they gathered on the side, talking to Aaron frantically in Spanish, probably asking what had happened and why I was hurt.

Then someone took me in their arms, taking extra care not to touch my bleeding back. From the strength of the one who held me, I predicted it must have been Dad. Unfortunately, I wasn't responsive enough to really say much or to even open my eyes. All the feeling from my body was draining and my mouth was dry and papery from growing dehydration.

But despite the chaos in my body, there seemed to still be the lingering need to reassure him. "I'll... be okay, Dad... I'll be... okay..."

I had just enough sensation to feel a bed under my stomach as Dad lied me out. There were more offset voices, one of which I recognized as Tobin's. That was about when I assumed he would start whatever treatment or procedure was needed on me.

Without warning of any kind, someone poured flaming gasoline on my back. The fire ignited my opened wound and my body reacted instinctively to it, desperate to find an escape from the fire.

I think I screamed, loud enough to shake the walls it felt like.

Why, oh why would they do something like that to me?

A force like hands and arms pinned me back down while I tried to struggle. My eyes opened when something was pressed to my mouth and through the blur of tears I saw Michonne offer me a piece of wood to bite down on. People were saying different things, using different tones of voice while I tried to buck them off. The fire lasted only a few seconds before it was doused, but then there was stabbing, of something thin and long and it winded through my skin, pulling and tugging it back together.

Whimpers escaped me as they continued and hot tears continued to leak from my face. It lasted forever and ever, and even beyond that.

There were gentle coaxing voices while it all persisted, carrying encouraging tones, but those words were drowned over the sound of the ring of the needle in my ears. They took their time in wrapping it all up and that involved more movement and binding.

Finally, finally, it was all over and the world was still at last.

There was more talking above me and a new hand was on my shoulder, rousing me carefully.

I concentrated on focusing on the voice and suddenly smelt something steaming being pressed under my nose.

"Judith, we need you to drink this, okay." It was my dad, offering me a tin cup of something hot. "It'll help with the pain and put you to sleep."

I wasn't sure if I could down anything other than water. My mouth and throat were both dry but my stomach was queasy.

"Do I have to?" I moaned.

"Only if you don't want to be awake in pain all night."

Moving carefully, I tipped the cup and downed what tasted like honeyed willow tea and poppy oil, allied with a few more complimenting herbs along with it. It was a weak sort of painkiller and tranquilizer but it was the only thing we really had to use here. Some of it dripped down my chin, but I did my best to finish the whole thing with my father's insistence. Then I lied back and waited for sleep to take me. It wasn't long.

I had already been exhausted but this at least settled the ache and dizziness in my brain enough to find a peace in all the chaos.

Oblivion opened its arms to me and I fell into the embrace like it was a consoling parent. There was such safety in the depths of that void.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Cat's out of the bag, everyone! What we've been waiting for finally arrived! YAY! Things are going to be getting good from here on out. If I can get a few more comments for this chapter I'm going to post maybe two more chapters this week. I've also written this chapter from both Negan and Rick's POVs so I'll post that as well.**

**Thank you everyone for you're wonderful support and keep up those reviews. Luv ya!**


	24. Bearskin (Rick and Negan's POVs)

**Chapter 24  
Bearskin (Rick and Negan's POVs)**

**Part 1 (Rick)  
** It always set me on edge each and every time Judith went out beyond the wall. Something always tickled in the back of my mind, whispering the worries of typical separation anxiety symptoms for a parent. As much as I wanted to, I knew it was unrealistic to be with her all the time out there. As the town leader, there were a whole lot of things that required my attention if we were going to feed ourselves and those vultures through the winter. Summer was upon us sure, but we still had to pull twice the weight.

No matter what I tried, what methods of distractions I used to occupy myself with, those fears and worries continued to eat at me, inventing new and torturous ways of harm to befall my child out beyond the safety of this wall. After all, the last time she was out there, she'd been attacked. Not just that but a storm had blown through and she'd come home two days later with a sprained ankle and three foreign, half-starved, traumatized, and mutilated children, one of which had injured Judith and had tried to take her own life in addition to that.

What was going to happen to her this time?

Would she even come back?

Slowly, very slowly, I sucked in a deep breath.

She could take care of herself. She had been taking care of herself out there a long time. She knew how to survive and how to handle walkers. She was young but she wasn't clueless. Judith knew what she was doing.

I tried keeping that in mind while I occupied myself till she returned. And there was plenty to occupy myself with for the moment.

It was another Savior pickup. Negan wasn't here thankfully, so Judith's presence was nonrequired. I was glad. Whatever fascination he had for my kid made me furious each and every single time he called for her. Even if Simon was scum, at least he didn't seek out any of our kids to examine.

I bit back more rage as Simon passed off his usual acts of disrespect and conceited little comments. I wanted to tell myself that they were meaningless little nothings--feats meant to make him look bigger than he was. The Saviors could act like assholes only because they had _our_ guns, but without their little shields they weren't worth shit. They knew we were the strongest group they'd come across so far and the only way to keep us subservient was to take away our lines of defense.

It wasn't our only one--maybe it was a large one, but it wasn't the only one. On days like today, I still remember the Battle of Alexandria fresh in my memory. We fought our way through an army of walkers that outnumbered all the Saviors ten to one with hardly any gun fire or training from the town's people otherwise!

But that had been a long time ago.

Did we still have that fight in us? Probably not.

Was our glory gone, entirely?

Judith didn't think so. Judith wanted to fight. If we ever came to war, she'd fight in the front lines without needing to be asked, but that would never happen. I'd rather die and live as a walker than let Judith do something that crazy.

I was brought out of my thoughts as shouts distracted both of us. I saw people running towards and from the gate just then.

Michonne rushed at me and I could see the unfiltered terror on her face followed swiftly by tears. "Rick! There's been an accident!" I barely needed her to say anything before the fear was coating my veins with ice. "It Judith!"

I was sprinting to the gate before she even finished.

_No._

_Please no._

_Not Judith._

_Not my little girl._

_Stupid!_

_So stupid!_

_I never should have let her have her way!_

_Fuck._

_Fuck!_

_FUCK!_

I spotted over a dozen of our citizens crowded around the cart I recognized as the one Aaron and Judith had been granted for their trips in the woods. I had given up on God a long time ago but as I neared it and the severity began to fall heavier and heavier over me, I prayed--I prayed to God and any and every single heavenly force above not to take my baby girl from me. They could have anyone else--they could have _me_ if they wanted--but not my child!

He was so fucking selfish! So fucking greedy and merciless and fucked up!

He took my livelihood, my dignity, my humanity, my best friend, my wife, my whole fucking world... did he need to take my baby, too?

Out of all things that existed he was the single worst piece of trash that had ever been fathomed. He bestows beautiful, wonderful things on people just so he can feel the satisfaction of ripping them from us in the most horrifying ways that can be.

_You bastard! You sick, selfish bastard!_

_I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!_

_Don't you take her from me! Don't you dare!_

I sprinted to the cart, shoving through the bodies and shouting over the voices to get Aaron's attention.

"What happened? What the fuck happened?"

A path was made for me and when I caught sight of a familiar tiny body leaning against Aaron's chest, drenched with blood and her shirt in tatters, there was nothing else in the world that I saw.

I dove for her, taking her in my arms myself and sprinting again.

My heart was a hammer beating against my caged ribs, and the only sound I heard was my own frantic panting.

This felt all too familiar. I had done this beforeâ€”twice in fact. Sprinting through the woods while Carl bled through his chest, searching for someoneâ€” _anyoneâ€”_ to save my boy. And then it happened again through a herd of a thousand biting, devouring walkers when a gaping hole had been blown into his very head. Twice my boy had nearly been ripped from my hands forever and twice he'd fought through.

But this wasn't my son this time. This was my daughter. Would I be so lucky a third time?

_Yes! Please!_

Judith was strong. She would live. That's what I had to keep telling myself. Judith would fight to live.

I burst into the infirmary shouting as I entered, "TOBIN! TOBIN! THERE'S BEEN AN ACCIDENT!"

Without needing to be told twice the man pointed to a bed and I lied her out. I had been so concerned with her life that I hadn't realized Judith was just barley lucid.

"...it's okay... I'll be okay..." she murmured. As Tobin got his tools, I scarcely gave time to register that Michonne and Aaron had both entered, merely seconds behind me in my mad dash. For the first time, I slowed down enough to notice just how extensive Judith's wounds truly were. Her back had been messily wrapped with gauze but once cut away for better examination I had to stifle my shock and fear once again.

Mauled. She had been mauled. Four, horrifying bleeding lines traced down the slope of her back, and I had to stifle a gasp at the sight of the mess and how severe it looked.

"Rick!" Aaron tried to explain.

"Was she bit?" I turned on him, feeling myself becoming unhinged as I gripped at his shirt in blind panic. "WAS SHE BIT!"

"No. It was a bear. It wasn't a walker, I swear. A bear attacked her."

There was only a miniscule bit of relief I found in that statement. She wasn't out of the woods yet, but at least now she had a chance. If it had been a walker there was absolutely nothing we would be able to do and Judith was utterly dead for real.

"She... she saved me, Rick." Aaron announced, looking utterly perplexed about such a thing. Behind his tone though, there was a different meaning in those words. "She saved me and... there's something else but... _it's impossible..._ "

He trailed off as Tobin called our attentions back over. There was a bottle of antiseptic in his hands and the supplies for stitches in the tray beside him. With dread, I realized what he needed us to do.

"I need you to hold her." He confirmed. "This is going to hurt a whole hell of a lot."

It was cruel to inflict so much more pain on her, but our supplies for sterilizing infections was so limited that there really were no other options.

I gripped her shoulders while Michonne took hold of her hips. The bottle tipped over and splashed directly over the open wounds. Her response was instantaneous. Through the haze of her drained stupor she screamed high, piercing my heart worse than a hundred bullets.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, honey." I tried to console. "It'll be over soon, I promise."

Michonne circled around, kneeling so she would see her on the opposite end of the bed. There was something in her hand and she offered it to the girl to bite down. I barely saw it while I concentrated on focusing my attention on Tobin's procedure. First, he did his best to clean the wound, mopping it up till the majority of the blood was gone and then grabbing a curved needle and some medicinal thread.

I wasn't sure I could watch this part so I turned back to gage the expression on my daughter while the needle bit into her over and over again.

Her face twisted with agony and sweat doused her skin, sparkling under the electric lights and dampening the sheets under her. She still struggled, screaming through the stick she bit down on as she tried to escape over and over again. Through it all Michonne and I took turns attempting to sooth her.

"We're almost done here." Tobin vowed, pulling forward the final stitches. "You're doing great, Judith. Just a few... more... and... done."

By the end of it all she was near delirious. I had held out the hope that she could pass out from the pain and find release during the rest, but she had instead remained awake to suffer through every horrifying moment of it all. By the end she was sobbing and had bit the stick so hard it was one more bite away from snapping clean in half.

"There we go. The worst is over, we just need to wrap it now."

It wasn't as difficult as I expected. It was still painful for Judith no doubt, but I only had to hold her up for a moment while Tobin and Michonne took turns binding her up. At last, at last, it was all over.

"You did so well, Judith. Very good."

I'm not sure she heard us though as she fell back on the covers and heaved in large gasps, the last of the tears sliding down her cheeks. While Michonne and I had been assisting Tobin, Lizzie, the medic apprentice, had taken the opportunity to boil some water. The best sedative and pain relief we had to offer her was white willow bark tea and poppy seed oil with some added medicinal herbs. It worked to an extent and would at least knock her out for a while but the wounds would continue to ache for several long days here after.

Taking only a moment to add a bit of honey to it, I pressed it under her nose, hoping she was still lucid enough to register my words. "Judith, I know you're very tired right now, but we need you to drink this."

She examined the mug dazedly. "Do I have to?"

"Only if you don't want to be awake in pain all night."

A moment of silence passed while she considered those words before finally reaching over to tip the glass and swallow a bit of it. Despite her best efforts, a trail of the liquid drizzled down her chin and onto the bedding. Even if it was difficult for her, she still downed the entire mug.

"Great job, honey." Michonne told her, stroking back her hair tenderly. "You did so well. You're all done now so you can go ahead and rest till you feel better."

She was more than happy to comply and in mere seconds she was out like a light.

I shared a look with the woman across from me and understood the fear in that gaze immediately, my fellow parent looked as terrified and haggard from the ordeal as much as I was.

A moment of silence filled the room till I was alerted once more by another commotion outside. Without warning, the door burst opened and Tara stood there, looking flustered.

"Rick, I'm sorry, but there's a problem that needs you to sort out."

Seriously? What the fuck was going on this time?

I considered leaving the woman to sort it out herself so I could look after my child but I was quickly reminded that the Saviors must have still been here and were most likely the cause of the crap unfolding outside. With a glance towards Michonne and Tobin, it was obvious that there was nothing else that could be done for Judith anyways.

Still, that didn't mean I had to be happy about it, though.

"Son of a bitch! What is it this time?"

I stormed out in rage, following the woman as she led me back to the scene of where Aaron and Judith had first been received. The group of Saviors for today had gathered round and were in a heated argument with Aaron at the moment over something inside the cart. As I neared I spotted Carl and Rosita beside him, shouting back their own furious statements.

"I don't fucking care! You are not taking them! My hunting partner was mauled for these animals and wouldn't let us leave till we'd gotten both of them hauled on here and back home. So, if you think I'm just going to let you lazy, good-for-nothing, sons of a bitches take them, I'll kill at least two of you before you so much as take a step towards that cart!" At his warning, I saw a knife glint in his hand just then and it took both Rosita and Carl to keep him from leaping at Simon.

"What is going on?" I shouted over the struggle.

"Rick, you should work harder to keep your faggots from picking fights they can't win." Simon said.

This time it was Carl that nearly tackled the man, and as much as I would have liked to punch him out myself I still had the sense to at least stop my son.

"He wants a reason, Carl." I hissed, seeing through Simon's attempt to provoke us.

The man hummed at the words. "Smart move, Rick. Now that's why you're the leader, aren't you?"

"What are they wanting to take this time, Aaron?"

"They were looking to take our animals." He explained, gesturing to the cart. In the back was a huge white-tailed buck with enormous branching antlers, the largest I'd ever seen. Beside it was a brown bear that was so big it's back paws dangled out of the back of the cart. There were other crates of wild greens and mushrooms but I barely saw them next to the two kills.

"Judith was mauled for these animals and wouldn't let us leave until we'd brought them back here. She _worked_ and _bled_ for these and might just fucking die for these as well! And I know for a fucking fact that she would want them to feed _us--_ not _them_!"

I took in his words and stiffened, repeating what I thought he'd said to me. "So, she was injured and you waited to bring her back for some... deer steaks and a rug?"

Aaron's mouth snapped closed and before I could stop myself I launched forward and socked him in the jaw.

He fell to the ground, stunned and holding his cheek where I had struck him. When he looked back at me I glared at him in outrage. "Never put my child in danger like that again." I know it was uncalled for, but hitting him wasn't just because I was pissed. The Saviors were aching for a reason to beat him senseless for the insubordination. If I didn't put him back in place then they'd do it for me, and they'd make sure he couldn't talk back again for weeks.

From his place on the ground he looked stunned and outraged, looking very much like he wanted to say more on it but he wasn't given the chance as I turned away from him and faced Simon.

"We pay you half. You only get half. Pick one of them and go." I told them in a huff.

Simon looked disagreeable but said more about it as he and two others examined the carcasses. "Well now, which'll it be boys? Deer or bear?"

"I've never tried bear before. Always curious to try new things." One of them announced.

"It's probably been eating biters out there." A second added with a look of disgust. "I'm not touching the meat on that thing. You can eat it if you want but I'm not going near it."

"Maybe we get a nice rug out of it at the least." Simon suggested. "Negan wasn't here today, so he couldn't claim it. Too bad; bet he would have loved to been here to see that."

"He's still expecting his weekly delivery from the brat. What do we give him instead?" The other whispered to the others.

"Hey, gaylord." Simon shouted to Aaron. "Which one of these did your little princess take down?"

Aaron looked furious for the turn of events but answered all the same. "She took down the bear."

They seemed skeptical about those words and exchanged looks by the announcement. I was skeptical as well. I knew she was skilled, but her slingshot wasn't strong enough to bring such an animal down. When I saw the knife imprint in its eye though, it was harder to doubt his words. She was fairly skilled with a knife.

"Well I guess that answers that question." Simon blew. "Get that thing in the trucks. We don't have all day."

I bit back the urge to spit at the man. My blood was pounding in my ears and brought a steady ringing with it, drowning out all other sound. With enormous effort, I shoved it down.

It didn't matter. They could have the thing. Truthfully, they could have even really taken the deer. I only wanted my child to live. If it was what I had to pay to be sure she pulled through this, then I'd pay it.

I just wanted her to live, no matter what. She had to live.

* * *

**Part 2 (Negan)**  
"Wait, back up. What happened again?" I asked in stunned disbelief. Simon already told me, but it struck me so completely off-guard that I had trouble processing his strange report.

"Your girl brought a bear down." He repeated. "A whole fucking brown bear this time, we've got it in the truck. Thing is huge. Fuckers were putting up a big fit over it, too. The girl got mauled bringing it back, apparently."

For the second time, I was caught off-guard. "â€¦Mauled?"

"Oh yeah, her back was a real big mess when they pulled inside. She looked like she was on her last leg, too."

"Was it from a biter?" I asked. A quiet part of me hoped not. I didn't want the little girl dead just yet.

"Not quite sure how it happened. They wouldn't go into any detail over it when that prick Rick came back out. Faggot she hunts with was making a big deal about keeping it. Rick put him in his place, though."

Those last few words didn't hit me as forcefully as the first few. For a while I really believed that Judy may have been fucking bulletproof by how badass she was. Ten years old and she brought down her first bear, and Simon was right, that sucker was huge.

"Goddamned it," I hissed, angry that I'd had other less fucking interesting crap to sort out here and as a reward ended up losing out on something that awesome. The bastard that kept me occupied while all this was happening had just made things monumentally worse for himself thanks to this news. "I can't believe I fucking missed it. Skip one pickup from my favorite town and all the good stuff happens when I'm not there."

This wasn't how I wanted that kid to die. I enjoyed her while she was here, and true she was a little snot, but her bouts of aggression and her occasional sassy quip could be taken in good humor fairly easily. They were even adorable when I was in a good mood. I secretly hoped that her attack had more so come from the bear or another animal rather than a biter; a bear gave her a chance; a biter, and she was screwed.

If that were the case and Judy lived through her little mutilation, she'd get an awesome fucking scar from it and you could bet I was going to want to see it.

Aside from her dear daddy, I may have been her biggest fan. Still, Judy was human the same as every single one of us. The way she pushed herself it was probably by pure miracle she wasn't dead already. Testing fate by going out in the woods at her age, with no fucking supervision whatsoever; that was just begging for trouble. I sure hoped I was the worse person she would ever meet out there; others were not going to be so humane.

With the recent turn of events, it looked like providence seemed to have a way with catching up to everyone, eventually. Men died, women died and kids died every fucking day. Little Judy wasn't any different from them. Sure, she'd been amusing for the time she had been here but we were all living off of borrowed time, ultimately. The end of the fucking world was here and we all met our fates one way or another. The only thing we could really do was make sure we fought tooth and nail before punching the clock for good.

Still, it really would be a real shame if the brat died. There were times when I sort of fantasized about bringing her back here and make a fine soldier out of her. She definitely had the heart for one and I couldn't let that go to waste on a community like Alexandria. She'd just end up wasting her talents and strength on people who were doomed to die much sooner than the ones who were strong and fit for this new world. She was meant to live much, much longer.

Even so, I suppose she went out with a bang. Her final kill was certainly impressive. A bear rug was just what I needed and seemed like an ironic parting gift from her, in a way. I'd always think of her when I saw it.

As much as I wanted to shrug this measly death off as nothing, I couldn't seem to shake the thought of it. Couldn't really say why, though. I'd seen countless men, women and kids die right in front of my eyes. Spineless fucking weak-ass scared to death people, doing everything in their power to get themselves killed. I can't remember a single fucking name. Even among my own people, faces blur in my sight, all of them becoming one after a while and it's all just easier to see them as nothing particularly significant after that.

Judith didn't really become a person to me until that day in the woods when we tracked down that fucker Roger. I knew Rick had another brat, but she steered clear of me as often as she could and that hadn't interested me all that much. She was just another scared little kid in a sea of scared little kids. But it was there in the woods when I found out that she really wasn't. No... far from it.

Tyler dragged her out in our circle and she sprung to her feet with a look of fire that was completely identical to her father's.

Little Judith faced me down in that forest without so much as flinching. She knew what I could do to her--her dad would be a complete asshole if he hadn't let her know just how fucking ruthless I am--but that didn't so much as faze her, not until she heard me roar at least.

I learned a lot from her with that one encounter. She was a survivor, she was a badass, and she was ultimately fearless. Here it was, dead fucking night inside dead-infested woods, and she was strolling them as easily as she could stroll down a street in her town at noon. At that time of night, she should have been tucked away in bed, where it was safe as savings.

Not just that, but that kid was tiny! I bet I could break her neck with hardly needing to use a fraction of force for it. If she managed to attract any biters while she was wandering around out there, she would have been a goner, but she was still alive, even so.

Judy was able to get away from me _that_ night, but her escape was my fault. I took my eye off her for one moment and she took that tantalizing opportunity to scurry away like a sneaky little mouse. So then, I learned one more thing about her that night; she was slippery and would escape the single moment she was able to. Now I knew I could never make that mistake again.

During our next visit to Alexandria I asked around for her, but those dumbasses couldn't seem to keep track of their kids very well.

When Rick mentioned their fabled Elf and the gifts of things it left for them every now and then, the wheels in my head clicked and I was able to figure out her true identity in three seconds flat. So that's what it was, huh?

The kid had been doing this for years. Fuck, she was only ten and she'd been going out into the woods all on her fucking lonesome _for years!_ And if that weren't enough, but apparently her family knew nothing of her exploits in there. Which either meant they were blind-ass neglectful motherfuckers, or Judith was just that good a sneak.

Now she had my full attention.

Out of curiosity my next few visits I asked more about her around town.

Fat lot of good that did me.

* * *

_Judith Grimes._ How do I even begin to describe Judith Grimes?

Pearl Anderson: Judith Grimes is a witch!

Dorothy Swanson: Stay away from that child! She's the spawn of hell and death!

Jimmy Richards: If you make her mad she'll hex you!

Abigail: She has a rare Tiffany beetle brooch and a grimorium verum which is a sort of really old spell book.

Peter Wagner: I hear she can change the color of her eyes whenever she wants. One day they look blue the next day they look green. It's weird.

Darla Wheeler: Okay that part is explainable. Peter is just colored-blind.

Peter Wagner: I am not! You've seen it. It's weird.

Darla Wheeler: It's the angle of the light and the time of day.

Mrs. Lakely: Judith Grimes is creative in making whatever disorder she can within the classroom. If she would apply that sort of enthusiasm into her schoolwork she wouldn't be so behind in her year. She could be very brilliant if she'd only put forth the effort.

Mrs. Byron: Don't listen to those rumors the kids throw around. She doesn't get along with very many of her peers. In all honesty that girl has a heart of gold. She's the one who brews up my medicine and I tell you, it works like a charm.

Negan: So, would you say she's a witch?

Mrs. Byron: Well... I can't say for certain. I mean she doesn't go around advertising it. I have a few suspicions that she's getting lessons or teachings from a mysterious stranger that lives out in the woods. There's a large scandal about some kind of elf that helped the town for a while and found things that no one else could find. She could be the elf, or she might _know_ the elf. I'm not quite sure.

Lizzie Pelzer: There's this rumor going around that Judith is somehow the elf that's been helping us for years, but I'm pretty sure she's not.

Negan: Why not?

Lizzie Pelzer: _Come on_. Her fuse is so short the majority of that stuff should have been laced with poisons and irritants. There's no way. She's no helpful elfâ€”more like a wicked witch.

Boxy Winslow: I hear she's been going out in the woods by herself since she started walking. She finds things with magic and divination and has this dowsing rod thing-a-ma-jig that she can enchant to help her find stuff.

Ryan Mello: Her favorite book is the Art of War by Chuck Norris.

Negan: Chuck Norris didn't write the art of war.

Ryan Mello: The version she has he did.

Arty Peterson: She can see ghosts.

Leo McGinnis: I don't think she likes the school teacher very much. In class, I caught on fire one time during an experiment and I raised my hand to tell Mrs. Lakely and the old lady totally panicked, and before she could get the fire extinguisher Judith smothered the flames with my coat. Then Judith turned to her and said, "Are you even trying?" She got detention for that.

Abigail Torres: One time she met a pack of wolves in the woods and they told her she was pretty.

Dora Wheeler: One time she punched me in the face. It was awesome!

* * *

Never, in my entire life, have I met so many people who were more divided in their opinions about a little kid.

In the end, I ended up nowhere, with more questions than answers, after all that. Just what the hell was this kid? It seemed like no one, not even in her town, knew those answers. I turned to her family after that, but those bastards only gave me the bare minimum: She was born before they all came to Alexandria, her mama died in childbirth, and Carl shot her so she wouldn't come back.

Other than that, nothing.

Fucking assholes. I wanted some goddamned answers but they weren't biting. I tried asking Daryl what he knew about her, but the frigid dick only threw me his signature dirty lookâ€”which was a bit more sour than usualâ€”and became all tight-lipped once again.

It looked like I'd need to get it all from the horse's mouth if I was going to get anywhere, but the kid was almost always never there whenever I came a calling. Sure, I started out more interested in her daddy and big brother, but they started to bore me once I met Judy. After three years I had all I wanted from them, now I wanted a new distraction, and I seemed to find an endless wealth of interest in dear little Miss Judy.

The day she killed my girl Lucilleâ€¦ _it still stings to talk about it_. I sometimes look round at Judy and all I want to do is tear her insubordinate fucking head right off of her shoulders for it! I should have killed someone, maybe a few people from her town to get back at that little tramp, but despite the bloodthirst pounding through me day after day, it had still been spellbinding what she'd done.

The trade, the toss, and the echoing TWANG while her thorny barbed wire unraveled like silky hair released from a bun; it had stunned me. And when the little girl looked back at me again, there was something in her face, something new and exciting and different. There had been the smallest of whispers in my ear, and for a moment it was like Lucille where at my side again.

"Stay your hand." She told me.

I didn't need a fucking bat to cherish my girl. She wasn't that bat, she was more than it. She had always been more than itâ€”so much more! It wasn't a piece of fucking wood that protected me all those years. It was my own strength and her spirit living inside of me that had done it; guiding me, protecting me, strengthening me into what I am today.

I still needed to make her pay, though, and Judy proved to be a hard, little worker, finding me good shit at every visit. And she was entertaining, always doing what was least expected and catching me by surprise.

I felt a little bad for her, being Rick's kid and all. He obviously didn't understand her too well, nor was he employing her talents to their full potential. He was going to end up ruining her, just the way he'd done his son. If she were mineâ€¦ boy the plans I could make for her.

I hate suspense. Waiting around to see if the brat was going to snuff it wasn't that exciting, nor did I enjoy it one bit.

I wanted answers, I wanted to know if she was going to die or not, and I really wanted to see that mess on her back. Only problem was we just made a trip there. I couldn't very well drop by unannounced twice in two days without a reason, and dropping by just to see how she was doing sounded too much like I cared. I also couldn't make it look like I cared too much about the brat that shattered the symbol of their subservience. I had my reputation to maintain after all. Plus, gas was running low these days. Had to save it for the real necessities like the weekly pickups and on dire occasions.

Besides which, if the wounds were fatal there wasn't much left to be done by now.

Whatever was going to happen to her, happened.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Alright so I know I said I was going to wait and see if I could get a few more reviews for the last chapter before I posted this one, but I was so excited about it that I just couldn't wait. Just so you know this'll probably be the last time I post something from another character's POV. I just had this idea in my head and before I knew it I'd written it all down. I was planning on keeping this whole story strictly in Judith's POV and maybe post this particular chapter with the drabbles I was thinking of doing, but there's still work that needs to be done for those and I wanted to get this out with the last chapter before it was too late.**

**Guys, your reviews are really, really appreciated. So, if you get the chance definitely leave a comment and tell me what you think of the story so far. And if you have ideas for the drabbles I'm collecting I'd love to hear your suggestions.**

**Luv, ya!**


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